


Marriage of Convenience Store

by ICMezzo



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Background Excel spreadsheets, CW: paperwork, Cabin Fic, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hamsters, Honeymoon, M/M, Pining, Rose Apothecary (Schitt's Creek), Snow, There Is Only One Bed, background Alexis Rose, background Ray Butani, background Stevie Budd, background pizza, vendor ex machina, zinging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27772828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ICMezzo/pseuds/ICMezzo
Summary: David and Patrick Rose-Brewer are brand new husbands (they aren’t) who co-own Rose Apothecary (they don’t), and all their business paperwork is completely on the up and up (it's not), because Patrick is excellent at dealing with difficult conversations (he isn't) before things turn into giant messes (which they always do). Also, for some reason there are hamsters.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 165
Kudos: 123
Collections: Schitt's Creek: Frozen Over (2020)





	1. Bad Form

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCFrozenOver2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCFrozenOver2020) collection. 



> Dear prompter, I’ve made a few changes to your prompt—for example, they’re not in the cabin for Christmas but for another occasion instead—but I hope that you’ll find I stayed true to the intent of the prompt. I hope you enjoy the surrounding story as well. I am sure it grew to be a wee bit bigger than either of us imagined.
> 
> _No hamsters were harmed during the events of this story._
> 
> **Prompt:** David and Patrick decide to spend Christmas at a cozy cabin in the woods by a frozen-over lake, just the two of them. The first night they're there, they're surprised to wake up to an unexpected heavy snowfall. It's beautiful, and they spend a lot of time sipping hot beverages by a roaring fire in the stone fireplace. Patrick, ever the adventurer, decides to go on a wintertime hike in the snow. David, of course, would much rather stay at the cabin and sit by the fire, reading a book. But when it's two hours past the time when Patrick said he'd be back, David starts to worry...

Patrick realized he was smiling again. He’d been smiling all morning, in fact. Couldn’t get his mouth to stop. Ever since—ever since he’d _zinged_.

Patrick had never zinged before. Maybe he zanged a time or two, many years ago, back with that pitcher in college or the TA in business school, and even Rachel a few times. But he’d never _zinged_. He’d remember if he’d zinged before.

But that’s what it was. A _zing_. He’d reached out to shake David’s hand, already intrigued by his presence, and as soon as they touched, Patrick felt a zing wake every nerve in his body in some strange, predetermined order, starting with his fingers and ending with his—well. Suffice to say, Patrick definitely zinged. 

He smiled just from remembering how David had met him parry for parry when Patrick had resorted to teasing, the best way he knew to try to invoke a smile. Which he then _got_. David had smiled even when he wasn’t actually smiling. And maybe that didn’t make sense, but Patrick saw what he saw. It turned out causing David to smile was kind of addicting, because Patrick was consumed by the desire to do it again. See David’s lips twist into a smile _again_ , see his eyes crinkle with delight _again_ , find some reason to touch him _again_. 

Oh god. Patrick really wanted to touch him again. 

A phantom zing raced down his spine, and Patrick shivered in response. He wanted to laugh aloud with the delight of it, or maybe squeal a little with excitement, except Ray was on the phone with someone about travel planning, so that probably wasn’t a good idea. Then again, neither was using a travel planner in 2018. Who even did that anymore? 

Glancing over at Ray’s desk, Patrick tried to figure out whether Ray was paying attention. Thankfully, he either didn’t notice or care that Patrick had no control over his expression. Again. Patrick scrubbed at the back of his neck and bit his lip. Maybe one more time. 

As he let his hand fall back to his desk, he surreptitiously poked at his phone’s voicemail playback button on the way. 

_Hi David? It’s Patrick. I, um, was just calling to run my business plan, uh, by you in a little more detail._

Patrick refused to make eye contact with Ray as the now-familiar voice filled the otherwise quiet office space. The sides of his lips curled up, and he was helpless to stop it. He picked up a pen so he could at least think about pretending to try to take some notes this time through.

David was still talking, and Patrick was smiling so hard he felt he’d never be able to stop. There was so much energy vibrating under his skin that he felt like he could lift right out of his chair.

_So, uh, feel free to give me a call back, and I will be happy to walk you through it. Okay—_

“Ciao,” Ray said to himself, perfectly timed overtop of David’s recorded version.

It was very possible he’d played the voicemails one too many times.

_Um, I thought it might be a good idea to give you some background information about...the—the store. It's basically a General Store. Um, that will support local artists under the brand of the store, which—which would also be my brand—oh._

Patrick gave up on trying to school his face—he’d been failing at that ever since the word ‘oscillate’ had been bandied about in casual conversation anyway—and set aside the pen he’d barely thought to pick up in the first place. He was laughing nearly to the point of tears as the stream of voicemails flowed over him, washing away some of the heaviness from his shoulders and leaving him feeling more buoyant than he had been in ages. He felt good. Light. Happy. 

He’d _zinged_. 

He was so damn happy.

He’d forgotten what pure, simple happiness felt like. Forgot that it didn’t always need to be so hard. Forgot that it could be as easy as anything, really. Forgot that, if you were extremely lucky, it found you and handed you ticket B13 and then left you a series of voicemails so ridiculous and delightful that you lost a whole afternoon to them.

As David went on for three messages in a row on the importance of selling a wide variety of cheese, Patrick, unquestionably charmed, tried to recall exactly how David had gestured that morning during his impassioned description of the branded immersive experience he was seeking to create, and how, in doing so had, in one fell swoop, unwittingly opened up a whole new way of being for Patrick, showed him there were other options for how to exist in the world. 

And _god_. Those _hands_. The hands that had sent him zinging. Gave him the best zing of his life. 

Patrick bit his lip. 

As the last message came to an end, he hazarded a glance at Ray, who was smiling back with a twinkle in his eye, and Patrick shrugged his shoulders helplessly in response. 

“The Roses are very entertaining,” Ray said. 

“Mmm,” Patrick replied, ears burning. Entertaining.

Was it warm in here? Patrick was warm. He unbuttoned and rolled up his sleeves.

He flipped random sheets of paper over on his desk, shoving paperwork into messy piles, as though he would be able to simply set David Rose aside and fill out some forms for Ray. Patrick wasn’t sure it was possible to set David aside, now that he’d met him, even if he wanted to.

He didn’t want to. 

He’d never met anyone like David, but the immediate draw he felt was irrefutable. All he knew was he wanted more of this person, who, in a matter of moments made Patrick smile hard enough he thought he might never stop. _Zing._

As such, this incontrovertible force by the name of David compelled Patrick even from afar to reach for his phone yet again. He heard the “Hi David, it’s Patrick” in his mind before he even hit play. 

Patrick retrieved his headphones and took the voicemails off speakerphone after that. Ray’s typical ubiquitous delight had been looking more and more like a pained grimace as Patrick replayed the messages additional times. 

Eventually, he found himself taking notes as he listened to David. He was still chuckling occasionally, but he was becoming increasingly intrigued by the actual ideas David shared. Certainly, he had to pan through David’s passionate descriptions of fair-trade twig pencils, free-range Himalayan cats, and still more cheese, but David’s idea was there behind it all. And it was a good one. A really good one. 

_Huh_ , Patrick said to himself, glancing at his notepad. _Rose Apothecary_. He’d underlined it twice. And below it, David Rose was written multiple times, as Patrick had apparently been doodling David’s name as he listened. 

Still smiling, he reached for a blank copy of the Provincial Business Licence Application, Form 52ABX-32QJ, and got to work. It took multiple attempts to sort through the information David had given him, but once he had, he set aside a clean copy of the form for David and went to go make a nice cup of tea. And, let’s face it, spend the entire time thinking about the beautiful deep brown eyes that refused to leave him alone.

  


*********

  


“Hi.”

A soft voice came from behind him, and Patrick knew who it was before he even turned around thanks to an energy that hummed at his back.

“Um, so I messed up my form. And I'm going to need another...form. From you.”

By then Patrick had David’s forms filled out, but he couldn’t help but tease David a little about the voicemails first. Except David wasn’t laughing with him, and Patrick realized he didn’t want to be laughing unless David was thoroughly amused right along with him. He changed tactics. 

“You know, the good thing about the messages was that I was able to get enough information to fill out your forms,” Patrick said, more gently, handing a folder with a copy of the paperwork to David for his records. Their hands brushed, and Patrick felt the same zing from earlier. “It's a good idea, your business. Re-branding local products and crafts, it's very inventive.” Patrick was completely honest about that. It was a great idea. But as the words came out of his mouth, David’s face changed, and this new look—softer and more vulnerable—made warmth bloom in his chest. 

Luckily, by the time they’d discussed the store’s name, which Patrick would secretly admit was both pretentious and timeless, David’s face had thawed completely, and the crinkle had returned to his eyes. 

Patrick blinked to clear his thoughts before offering, “I’ll submit the paperwork for you and give you a call when I hear something,” all the while wishing he had an excuse to reach out even sooner, like, maybe later that day even, though it would probably be little much under the circumstances. He defaulted back to safer teasing about the voicemails as his mind raced for an excuse to spend more time with this man who was as compelling as he was complicated. David contained multitudes.

David’s eyes were shining. Patrick bet his own were too.

He wanted to reach out, find some reason to touch David again. It was overwhelming. And fast. Too fast. At least, it was probably too fast, though he hadn’t experienced such a magnetic draw before, so he couldn’t be completely certain. Still. It seemed fast. He felt…enchanted? Was that a thing someone could be? A real someone, not, like, a Disney character. He supposed it must be possible, because there he was, enchanted by a pair of eyebrows and devastating jaw in some of the strangest clothes Patrick had ever seen on someone in real life. He wanted to reach out and run his hand along David’s sweater, feel the softness there, and maybe lean in a little closer, breathing in the earthy spice of his cologne— 

David stood, and the spell broke. Patrick abruptly dropped his hand, which had begun to reach for David without permission. “I’ll uh, I’ll see you soon, David,” he said. 

Heading for the door, the folder with his paperwork secured carefully in his arms, David thanked him a final time.

“Ciao!” Ray called on David’s way out. 

The door closed, and Patrick’s heart made itself known in his chest, the memory of David’s skin against his where they’d briefly touched the second time.

Patrick smiled. _Zing_.

  


*********

  


After David left with his copy of his Business Licence Application Form 52ABX-32QJ, Patrick gathered the other set of paperwork into a neat stack to take to the post office the next morning. Off to his side was the spare form he had started to fill out but hadn’t finished because he realized David had changed his mind mid-voicemail on certain details, like serving coffee at the store. But instead of erasing everything, Patrick had grabbed a clean form and started over. He was about to toss the old version into his recycling bin when he noticed he’d apparently been doing some daydreaming as he filled it out. 

Oh, dear god. He’d written Patrick Rose-Brewer on the line where it asked for the name of the person who had prepared the form.

Patrick snorted at himself. He’d obviously been captivated by David. And intrigued. Definitely delighted. But he had to laugh at his reversion to the junior high version of himself who had laughed good naturedly when he’d seen his own name combined with Rachel’s name in her school notebook and had read it a few times, trying it out to see how it felt. 

Biting his lip, he decided to indulge in the harmless little fantasy. Only for a moment. David probably left a trail of doodled hyphenated last names in his wake. Making sure Ray wasn’t around to see, he checked the box next to David’s name so that it now indicated “Married.” He’d had to ask Ray for this information about David when he filled out the real forms earlier, and he knew his cheeks had been hot as he’d tried to ask as casually as possible. For business purposes, obviously, which he explained to Ray in a completely normal voice, trying not to sound…invested. (He was so invested. Who _wouldn’t_ invest in a zing?)

Well. In for a penny as they say. Grinning, he proceeded to change the Owner’s Name to say David Rose-Brewer. God, Patrick was so immature, but also, he was enjoying this future of his own creation, so he gave into his temporary silliness. After that, it was only a matter of adding his own information in the spouse section and signing the back of the form as the co-owner, and his impromptu dream of co-owning Rose Apothecary—such a good idea—with his gorgeous, complicated, compelling, and entirely fake husband was complete.

“Patrick, will you be having dinner here tonight?” Ray popped into the office area from his kitchen, startling him.

He quickly turned over the form so nothing incriminating was showing, but then realized he’d turned it so the side that listed David’s brand-new last name was facing up. Cringing, he shoved the papers under his notebook and a few folders and turned to Ray. 

“I, uh, sure, Ray. Thanks.”

“How do you feel about Taco Tuesday?”

“Uh, it’s Wednesday?”

“Yes,” Ray agreed easily. “I don’t want to fall even more behind schedule.”

“Right. That sounds great. I’ll, uh, finish up here,” he said, gesturing to the papers and files on his desk next to his laptop.

Ray headed back into the kitchen, and Patrick started packing up his desk. 

“Patrick!” Ray appeared again, and Patrick jumped out of his skin a second time. “Would you like me to make extra tacos so you can invite David over to join us? I don’t think he has many friends besides me,” Ray said, “so he might really like—”

“Ah, no, that’s okay. Maybe another time,” Patrick said, shutting that down as he started packing up his desk. David wasn’t getting anywhere near Ray’s again until Patrick and his spare forms had a date with Ray’s old paper shredder. 

  


*********

  


Patrick retrieved the mail from Ray’s mailbox, flipping through the contents disinterestedly. When he spotted the large manilla envelope in the pile and realized it was from Service Ontario, a small thrill raced through him. While such official-looking mail often gave him this reaction, this particular envelope was likely to contain David’s business licence, and anything even tangentially related to David warmed him deep in his bones. Taking the licence to him would be a great excuse to visit David, too. He could take it over that afternoon and was happy to finally have a valid reason to not only seek David out, but also make him smile once he got there, like David had been making Patrick smile for basically two weeks straight because Patrick couldn’t stop thinking about him.

For some reason, no matter how much Patrick had tried to convince him otherwise, David had been nervous about his business application, as though for some reason the province would find his business idea not good enough and turn down the potential tax revenue it would bring in. In any case, the approved licence would be excellent news. Maybe he could even frame it for—Oh. 

Oh god. 

Oh _god._

 _What? How?_ He tore open the envelope. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as—

It was as bad as. Very, _very_ as bad as.

He brought the pile of mail inside and absently set the rest of it on Ray’s desk before taking the larger manilla envelope and its contents to his own. He blinked slowly at it, but the name on the envelope refused to change. His stomach dropped out of his abdomen and settled somewhere below his kneecaps.

Right on the front, in official type, was a label addressed to one David Rose-Brewer, c/o Patrick Rose-Brewer, followed by Ray’s address, 124 W 25th St. North, Schitt’s Creek. 

Its contents revealed that the application had been approved; David Rose-Brewer’s business was officially all set, and Rose Apothecary could open any time. It’s unanticipated co-owner, Patrick Rose-Brewer, was listed right beside David’s name.

Patrick cursed Past-Patrick’s nonsense. Even if he’d never experienced feelings like this before, it was no reason to be so preoccupied that he messed up this badly. Instead of paying attention, he’d let those zings fry his brain, and now he had both a new husband and a new business. Just like he’d dreamed of. He kept staring at the licence, then turning it over so he didn’t have to look at it—until he began to doubt the whole situation was real and had to turn it face up again to check that he’d really done it. Oh god. 

How was he possibly going to explain this to David? He honestly didn’t even know how it happened himself. He was certain he’d shredded the spare forms. Patrick’s mind began racing. His first real crush on a guy, and he’d already fucked it up.

_Oh god. Oh god. Oh—_

“Patrick!” Ray barrelled into the room. “I just got this new apartment listing in lower SC. It’s very spacious, and it comes with a bathroom door. How about that! And it’s completely soundproofed!”

“I, uh, okay, Ray,” Patrick said, only half listening as he tried to figure out what to do next.

“I only thought you might want somewhere to go to play those messages you love so much without needing to wear your headphones.”

Patrick’s head shot up. 

“Have you considered that your ears may be too small for your headphones and perhaps a little lopsided? I think your left ear might be higher than your right. Or maybe your head isn’t straight? In any case, it was amusing to listen in the first few times you played them, but then I got bored,” Ray continued, starting to comb through the stack of mail on his desk. “Plus, I got the new Carly Rae Jepsen album that I want to listen to. But Patrick, if you would feel better having an excuse to go over, you could drop off some of my flyers and business cards.”

“I…uh. Sure. I can...drop those off for you.” Patrick felt hot. His skin felt hot. And tight.

“Excellent. Excellent. The ones for Ray’s Real Estate, but also the ones for Ray’s Closet Organization too if you don’t mind. Moving into a new apartment is a perfect time to reorganize—oh, the newest issue of _Canadian Rural Entrepreneurs Quarterly_ came in the mail!” Ray held it up excitedly to show the cover to Patrick; it sported a bold headline about the top 10 sexiest uses for pivot tables. But while this article would have normally been something that Patrick took an immediate interest in, at that moment, he had other things on his mind. (Though he would come back to it at his first opportunity. Obviously.)

“Oh, look here, it says here that custom mouse pads can be a lucrative investment for small businesses…” 

Patrick tuned Ray out. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was somehow going to have to go find David and explain this very normal, completely reasonable, not at all horrifically embarrassing error that had occurred.

The first step was to fill out another licence application immediately and drop it off at the post office on the way, and then he could at least let David know he was on top of the problem, so he wouldn’t worry and wouldn’t hate Patrick for...accidentally sort of maybe marrying him a little without his consent. On paper, at least. 

If he hurried and got the new form in the mail today, it would go out before the weekend, and the corrected licence would arrive in no time, especially if he splurged for expedited shipping. He was definitely expediting the shipping. Anything for David.

He shoved the licence back into its envelope and shoved it in a drawer. Grabbing yet another blank business application, he dove right in. After filling it out, he went back to check his work and make sure there were no hyphenated last names anywhere to be found. Then he was off to the post office, followed by a trip to Rose Apothecary to find David and swallow every ounce of pride he’d ever had.

  


*********

  


“Wow. Things are really coming together in here,” Patrick offered as he entered Rose Apothecary, slightly thrown off by the presence of a figure that was definitely not David, but he recovered quickly and looked around. It was a work in progress, but it seemed like it had good bones. 

“Oh, um, we're actually not open yet, but that's so sweet. Thank you. We've been working very hard.”

 _We_ , she’d said. _We._

Patrick now felt even more foolish, and his stomach was back in his knees again. 

“Well, I'm actually not here to shop. I'm—I'm Patrick,” he introduced himself. ( _Not_ Patrick Rose-Brewer, his traitorous brain reminded him.) “I came by to talk to David about his business licence.” And wasn’t that putting it mildly. 

He glanced around. Was David even here? Maybe he should come back.

“Um, David's in the back. But I am Alexis, and I'm currently studying business, and I'm David's sister and life coach, so.”

David’s sister. Patrick breathed a little easier. “Well, it's great to meet you, Alexis.”

She smiled at him a little more aggressively than he was accustomed to, then began talking about some of the products and dousing him in a few too many samples, and really, by that point, Patrick merely wanted to extract himself from Alexis’s flirtatious grip and find David. It was bad enough he had to have this conversation at all, but he was certainly not doing it in front of Alexis. “Uh, he’s in the back, you said?” Patrick asked her.

“Mmm, yes, Patrick. Yes.” Alexis drawled, her tone contradicting any impression he might have had that she was listening at all. Finally letting his hand go, she stepped even closer into his personal space until she’d guided him over to a box of scarves, a move he hadn’t even realized was happening until he was there. “But first,” she said. “You should see these gorgeous scarves I picked out. Oh, here, Patrick, you should try one on. It’s blue, like your sweet little shirt—look at all those Tiny. Little. Buttons!” She poked him in the chest three times to punctuate…that he wore buttons? He was slightly baffled at Alexis by this point, but she simply laughed and looked at him conspiratorially. “Business caszh, am I right?” she asked, though her tone made him think Alexis hadn’t dressed in business professional a day in her life and also that he should reconsider ever wearing it again himself. 

She held the scarf to his cheek. “Isn’t it so soft? The fur comes from those cute kitties that live down the street.” She paused. “They dye it blue though. Ted says the kitties do _not_ come that way.” She wrapped the scarf around his neck for him, and he suddenly felt like he was choking. Which made sense, because if the scarves had anything to do with real kittens, he probably was.

“They go well with feathers and body jewelry, too, Patrick, if you maybe have a cute girlfriend, or…?”

Patrick coughed and scrabbled at his throat, which ultimately saved him from responding. “Whoa, might be tying it a little too tight there.”

“Uh, that is actually cat hair.” The voice came from behind Patrick, but it immediately warmed his neck in ways that had nothing to do with cat dander or histamines. He yanked the scarf off and sighed in relief as his throat returned to normal and David finished explaining the origin of the scarves. 

He turned around to face him and found David’s eyes dancing, his mouth at a near 45-degree angle, which was not something he’d known a human mouth could do, much less look so damn gorgeous while doing it. Patrick felt a rush of desire flow through him. 

“Hi,” David said, more breath than sound.

“Hi.” Patrick was smiling helplessly from just being near him. Warmth like whiskey curled in his belly. He wanted to touch David, very badly, but given what Patrick was about to tell him, he held his hands tightly at his sides. “I, um, I was hoping to talk to you about...um, about your business licence. Did you, uh—how would you feel about coffee or tea? We could maybe go to the café for a few minutes.” Patrick realized mid-stream that he had a better chance of making it through the conversation if he had a nice cup of tea as a buttress and if David’s sister wasn’t lurking nearby or trying to spritz him with Mennonite cologne while he jabbed himself with an Epi-pen. 

Ignoring the last part entirely, David’s voice rose in both pitch and volume. “My business licence? What is wrong with it? Are they not giving me one? Fuck. I knew this was all too good.”

“Oh, no, no,” Patrick tried to comfort him while David’s “too good” stuck around a few extra seconds in his brain. “It’s not—it’s nothing—nothing like that. Just a little error in the—not even an error, really. More of a...a snafu.” 

“An error?” David was full-on flailing now, and his voice went even higher. “A snafu??” 

“Just a minor, well. A tiny little. A misprint, of sorts. Barely even that.”

“ _A misprint?!?_ ”

“M’kay, well, I have to say I thought this conversation would be a whole lot more interesting, but it’s clearly not going to get any better from here, and technically I was supposed to have been back at work an hour ago, so.” Alexis twirled around and flounced toward the door, snagging a small bottle of lotion as she went and dropping it casually in her purse. “Text me when you’re done freaking out,” she directed David. “Or if this discussion gets more exciting, obviously.” 

“Oh my god, Alexis. Put that back. There’s not going to be anything left to sell at this rate.”

“Well, given that you don’t even have a licence yet, you can’t sell anything anyway, so there’s nothing to really worry about, is there?” She winked, or at least, offered some approximation of one before calling “Bye, Patrick!” in a singsong voice. “Byeeee, David,” she added as an afterthought as the little bell on the door jingled in her wake.

Patrick tried to bite back his smile.

Sighing loudly, David turned back to Patrick, clearly still anxious, but at least his voice had returned to near normal. “So, what exactly is wrong?”

God, he was beautiful. Patrick took a steadying breath, wanting to comfort him and determined to explain. He opened his mouth to…to word? But they refused to come. He closed his mouth and swallowed, trying not to cringe and risk making David even more nervous. His mouth felt full of glue. “I—” he croaked. 

“Ugh, fucking fuck.” David had turned away and begun pacing. He was shaking out his hands as he talked, mostly to himself, it seemed. “I thought I’d at least get to _open_ before I failed.”

“Failed?” Patrick said, as this was enough to shock his vocal cords into action once more. “No, David. No, it’s only…it’s. The application,” Patrick tried, as David turned to look at him, and it was awful to see his presumed failure written across his features. “They’ll approve it. There was a little issue with the…um.” Patrick looked around for an answer, any reasonable explanation, as though he could pluck it from mid-air. The café across the street was the first thing that caught his eye. “Tea?” he asked. 

“Tea?” David squawked.

“Um, yes. I thought maybe.” Patrick said, before finishing this latest fascinating and articulate monologue of his off with another “Tea?” His mouth was very, very dry.

David stared at him, then pointedly looked down at Patrick’s hand. 

_Oh, right_. Patrick had brought his favourite blue travel mug with him, a tea bag hanging obviously down the side. Patrick Brewer, biggest idiot this side of the creek. _Oh god._

“I’ll, uh.” He lifted the mug to gesture with it. “I’ll just.” He took a long drink, and a dribble ran down the side of his chin, which, honestly? He quickly demoted his once favourite blue travel mug to third favourite at best.

Once he’d finished and wiped his chin on his sleeve—to David’s obvious horror—Patrick set his mug down and let out a slow breath to get his bearings. David, meanwhile, perched on a stool leaning against the wall behind the counter and raised an eyebrow, seeming at least a little calmer. “For the record, I don’t care for tea, so maybe next time you come to tell me my business is a failure, splurge on a muffin.”

“Noted,” Patrick said, still wondering how he could possibly avoid making David freak out again, because honestly, Patrick wanted to spend time making David smile and laugh, not…this. “But that’s really not what happened? Nothing about this is a failure. I shouldn’t have—it really isn’t a big deal.”

“M’kay, so we're pretty clear on what it’s not,” David retorted, and, well, that was fair. Patrick sipped his tea. 

He did have to tell David, didn’t he? He did. He definitely did. Unless he…didn’t. The new paperwork would arrive in a week after all. Maybe David never had to know. Why upset him unnecessarily? 

He swallowed hard, his eyes darting around the apothecary as he weighed his options and set his now-empty mug down behind him. “In the interest of us potentially working together, I, uh…should probably come clean about something,” he said.

And then he completely chickened out. 

“I, uh, actually—there’s been a delay, that’s all.” Patrick met David’s eyes briefly before looking around at all the boxes of merchandise sitting around. “I had to fill out another form, but I already sent it in, so you’re all good.”

“I thought you mentioned a misprint.”

“Did I?” Patrick chuckled. “I guess in a way, that’s correct. But mostly it’s just a little delay. A couple days. Maybe a week, max. And I wanted you to know. About the delay.” God, he sounded like such an ass. Patrick went to take another drink and remembered too late that he’d finished it, resulting in those empty cup slurpy noises that were always somewhat embarrassing. “I uh, I’ll let you know right away when it comes in.”

“Right,” David said firmly, reassuring himself much more than Patrick. “I guess—I guess that’s fine then.” 

Suddenly a woman’s voice came from behind David. “Vroom, vroom, bitches!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Alexis,” David grumbled. “She’s always fucking with my phone.” 

“Vroom, vroom, bitches!” the recorded voice sounded again. “Vroom, Vroom—” And again. 

David turned abruptly and went into the storage area behind the register, popping back out a moment later with his phone, which Vroomed at him again twice more in quick succession.

“Do you need to call her?” Patrick asked. “I can go.”

David laughed. “Oh god no. Let me just…” Scrolling through the messages, David’s face began to contort. His eyes grew large and his jaw dropped, if not to the ground, a solid 50% of the way there.

“Everything okay?” Patrick asked, raising his brow. 

“Yes. Yep. Yes.” David looked delighted. “Alexis was apparently supposed to keep an eye on a bunch of hamsters someone dropped off at the Vet Clinic for adoption, but she got distracted because one of her exes was on _Love Island_ , and somehow they all got out.” He paused to read. “Oh my god. One went in her purse. _Ewwww,_ ” David made a drawn-out noise of disgust.

“It went in her purse?” Patrick guessed. “Or like _went_ went?”

“Oh god,” he said, looking up at Patrick. “Okay, nope, I officially do not want her to give back whatever she stole. I refuse to have gross hamster germs in here.” David shuddered. “No. Nope. No. It’s worse. Patrick. It’s so much worse. She found two in her purse, and they were fucking up against my lotion.”

Patrick briefly wondered if it was the same lotion David used, because if so, he couldn’t blame them; it smelled _really_ good. “Did she find the others? Besides the ones in her purse?” Patrick asked as David typed away on his phone, completely invested. “What did Ted say?”

“Re: Ted, she hasn’t told him yet because she’s in love with him, and she doesn’t want him to think she messed up because she was daydreaming, and anyway she thinks she can fix it before he finds out.” 

“Huh,” said Patrick, scratching his neck. I mean, it didn’t sound like the _most_ terrible plan. 

David continued typing away, so Patrick pressed further. “Does she need help?”

“Nah, I mean, they’re only a couple little hamsters, right? She thinks it was only, like, thirty. They must still be in the clinic if the door was shut, and Alexis is good at figuring out situations like this. Anyway, what’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like they’re butterflies and moths.”

David turned back to his phone and looked at it accusatorily. “What? No. Absolutely not.” David stood abruptly. “Okay, so, it turns out I have to go. Like, now. I have to go.” 

Patrick watched him gather his things. “Everything okay?”

“Um, she threatened to put a poopy hamster in my bed, and while I don’t think she actually would, she may still be a bit upset that I lost her favourite eyeliner, so I need to go. Make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Patrick laughed, his own confession tucked comfortably away, reprioritized due to hamsters and shoved toward the back of his mind. The paperwork would arrive next week after all, so maybe David never needed to know the details. Patrick held the door open for David as they left and received a little shoulder squeeze and one of his trademark half smiles in response as he stepped by. _Zing. Zingzingzingzing._

He felt a little lightheaded as he departed down the street in the opposite direction from David, and that was before his half-working brain finally put it together that David had likely worn eyeliner at least somewhat recently, and if he thought he’d lost an afternoon to a series of voicemails, this information was going to occupy him for many nights to come.


	2. On Paper

Patrick found a new envelope from Service Ontario in the pile when he went through the mail late the next week. Which, thank god, because David had been making good progress on the store and was very reasonably growing anxious to make Rose Apothecary official, especially since Patrick had gone by and offered to help him with grants earlier in the week. The grants were the least Patrick could do under the circumstances, but Patrick would have unquestionably helped him anyway. (Though secretly, he hoped the grants came through so David would be able to bring him on in an official capacity instead of looking amused or bewildered every time Patrick came by to freely volunteer his help since his actual business consultant work for David had been completed long before and, therefore, had precisely zero legitimate reasons to keep turning up.)

Dropping the rest of the mail on Ray’s desk as usual, he immediately tore open the envelope as he walked back to his own workspace. As he did so, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and looked up quickly in case Ray had gotten home, but he was still alone, and saw nothing further, so he dismissed the thought in favour of the envelope in his hands, reaching for the crucial paperwork inside.

Instead of a licence, the envelope contained a copy of the second form that he’d sent in. Across the top of the form, stamped in thick red ink, was the word “DENIED.”

_Denied?_

Patrick felt lightheaded and practically fell into his seat as he flipped through the accompanying pages. Denied? How?

He picked up the phone and dialed the help number at the bottom, which led to a very friendly employee explaining to him that Service Ontario wasn’t going to approve a new business exactly the same as the old business, because that would result in a duplicate, but if Patrick wanted to make changes to an existing business licence, all he had to do was fill out the Amending a Business Licence Form 52ABX-32QJ-2, and they’d take care of everything for him in 10 to 14 business days. 

Feeling like a fool, Patrick decided he needed a concrete plan. Maybe he could make a—no, he probably wouldn’t need a pivot table for this. A basic Gantt chart would do. The required forms for this process in Schitt’s Creek were different from where he grew up, and he’d missed this. Possibly because he’d only had eyes for David. He weighed his options and determined he had no good ones and only one bad one, which was to fill out the form and then wait. A long time. Again.

Another two or three weeks? David was going to freak out. 

He had to tell him.

Patrick thanked the woman on the other end of the phone and apologized for mailing in the wrong form—there was no need to be impolite—then hung up, and proceeded to stare off into space, at which point Ray did come home, carrying a giant bag of wood shavings.

“It’s more that he chose me,” Ray replied when questioned, Patrick trailing behind him a few steps as Ray went upstairs. “But I like to think Ray Jr could tell I’m nurturing in that way. He followed me right in the front door this morning! I thought he might need a headshot or a tax form, but it turns out he needed Ray’s Real Estate to find him a new home,” Ray said happily. “I told him he could stay here—he looked so lost, just like you did, Patrick! Oh, I hope you don’t mind I gave him the rest of your broccoli. Hamsters do love their broccoli.” Ray came to a halt in front of the guest bathroom, also known as Patrick’s bathroom, went inside, closed the drain in Patrick’s bathtub, and promptly poured the entire bag of wood chips into the bathtub.

“Uh,” Patrick said, as this bathtub had been deemed his since he’d moved in a few months earlier, and he’d planned on having that broccoli for dinner. “Hamster?”

“Yes, Patrick. Now, I told Ray Jr. that you wouldn’t mind sharing the guest bath while I found a permanent home for him. Perhaps the linen closet? There’s so much room in there since I’ve organized!” 

“Um,” Patrick tried again, as it seemed he was losing his bathroom to a hamster that had literally walked in off the street. This was a thing that was happening.

He watched Ray empty his pockets, which had apparently been filled with grapes and carrots that Ray proceeded to place into the bathtub as well. Grapes and carrots that had also been Patrick’s. So there went half his lunch for tomorrow.

“Ray.”

“Hmm?” Ray asked, clearly not paying attention to him. “Now, Patrick, if you could be so kind as to go downstairs into my top right desk drawer and bring Ray, Jr. up here while I get him a nice glass of water. It will give you a chance to get to know each other!” 

Except when Patrick slowly, carefully, opened the drawer to Ray’s desk, he found not only Ray Jr., but also Ray Jr.’s tawny girlfriend—or partner, Patrick amended, no need to be so heteronormative about it—and they were having themselves a good time. “I hope you used protection,” he admonished them, pulling the entire drawer from the desk and heading back upstairs with it.

He passed it to Ray, who greeted the second new addition to the household with great joy, at which point Patrick promptly dug his cell phone out to call the vet clinic for hamster care instructions and found himself asking more questions about caring for expectant rodent mothers than he ever imagined wanting to know, and poor Ted sounded like he’d answered a hundred questions about hamsters that day alone. He tried to summarize his findings for Ray as he was nudged out of the bathroom, after which Ray shut the door behind them and turned out the light so the hamsters could nap in peace. Patrick was surprised he didn’t read them a bedtime story. He’d offered to read one to Patrick each night the first week he’d moved in. 

Patrick gave up, went back down to his office desk, typed out the hamster care instructions for his overly excited landlord, then he dropped his head in his hands, scanned the official envelope from Service Ontario he’d gotten that day while simultaneously wondering whether hamsters could climb out of bathtubs, and contemplated why the universe hated one Patrick Rose-Brewer so very much. Then he printed out a copy of Form 52ABX-32QJ-2, Amending a Business Licence. If he hurried, he might be able to get it in the mail before the post office closed that afternoon.

Then he had to tell David.

  


*********

  


Patrick didn’t tell David. 

He tried. He really did. But instead of the words that should have been coming out of his mouth, he was standing there behind the register at Rose Apothecary, intentionally getting David all worked up about juice, and clean mouths, and god knew what else, because Patrick physically couldn’t tell him, not when David was looking at him like that, his definitely-not-sloppy mouth dropped open at Patrick’s teasing.

God. He liked him. He liked him so, so much.

And when David screeched a few seconds later and climbed up on top of the counter by the register and made Patrick text Alexis to come get the hamster that had run across the shelf of the antique wooden credenza he’d gotten for a steal in Elmdale—now covered in incorrect hamster goo, according to David, who refused to be pressed into explaining exactly what that was—Patrick liked him even more still. 

When he returned to Rose Apothecary to continue helping David set up the new space the next day, he found he couldn’t say anything then, either, because David was wearing a shower cap when Patrick arrived, surely a sign of a rough day, and Patrick simply couldn’t do it to him, not when he was already flailing away over lice and body milk. 

Nor the day after that.

And David never asked.

  


*********

  


“Oh, are you kidding me right now?!” Patrick’s eyes scanned the letter sent to him from Service Ontario. “How is this even possible?”

DENIED, it said, in red ink, stamped across the top of the words “Request to Amend a Business Licence.”

At the bottom of the application, a small line of text was circled in red. It instructed the licencee to please enclose a $19 CAD processing fee. 

Which Patrick hadn’t done. He threw the form down on his desk, and it landed right on top of the mousepad Ray had given him that morning, which pictured Ray Jr. and Winnipeg eating nuts in front of a volcano. _God dammit._

Grabbing a credit card out of his wallet, he punched in the phone number on the bottom of the form and was politely informed by a voicemail recording that he’d reached the offices after hours, and the offices would reopen on Monday morning, and he could pay by phone at that time. 

He sighed, closed his laptop then went upstairs to sit on the toilet and explain his problems to Ray Jr. and the very pregnant Winnipeg as they alternatingly slept and ran on the metal wheel Ray added to the growing collection of hamster paraphernalia in Patrick’s bathtub. Sure, their presence meant he had to share a bathroom with Ray, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be friends.

Then he wondered if hamster wheels came in human sizes given the amount of running in circles that he’d been doing lately over simple paperwork, at which point he decided it was probably time for him to leave the bathroom.

  


*********

  


The next morning—not before 11 a.m., because he had learned very quickly that David was _not_ a morning person—Patrick was about to enter the apothecary when he paused outside, his hand stopped mid-air as he’d been reaching for the door. Through the front windows, he could see David shimmying along to some unknown soundtrack as he folded sweaters. Patrick felt a warm fondness settle over him, and the helpless smile on his face seemed like it might be a permanent fixture for several hours to come. 

Patrick went inside and was further rewarded by a blush that coloured David’s cheekbones. 

“Hi,” David greeted him, more breath than sound.

“Hello.” Patrick smirked.

David rolled his eyes. “I didn’t know you were coming in this morning.”

“Would we call it morning?” Patrick teased, echoing David’s own phrasing and pretending to look at his watch.

“M’kay,” David said, making Patrick grin in the process. Turning back to the sweaters, David then added, “If you want to help, the alpaca throws here could use tagging.”

“Sounds great,” Patrick agreed quickly, eager to work so close to David, the pile of blankets stacked off to David’s right, close enough that Patrick knew he’d be able to smell David’s cologne and bask in the warmth of his eyes as they talked. Patrick was off from his job at Ray’s since it was Saturday, and there was nowhere he’d rather be. “Oh, is Mariah around?” he asked easily, looking for the chubby-cheeked new Apothecary hamster-in-residence as he headed over to David.

“In the back, I think,” David said, rolling his eyes. “I swear she decimated the entire shipping tube we gave her.” 

“I’ll have to look for her later. At some point we should probably get her a proper cage.” Patrick said. 

David shrugged. “We’ve come to an agreement. She’s more of a free-range hamster.” 

“I brought her peanuts. Do free-range organic fair-trade cage-free apothecary hamsters like peanuts?”

“I don’t know. Are they free-range organic fair-trade cage-free apothecary peanuts?” 

“Yes.” Patrick nodded seriously. “I got them at Brebner’s.”

“Brebner’s does not sell apothecary peanuts; I have looked.” David’s eyes were crinkling. “Also, I like peanuts,” David added, his features rearranging into a playful pout. “You didn’t offer me any peanuts.”

“Hmm, I am pretty sure you are capable of getting your own fair-trade cage-free peanuts at Brebner’s.”

“Technically, I cannot.”

“Okay, David.” Patrick smiled to himself.

“Seriously. I was banned two years ago.”

“Sure you were, David.”

“Oh my god, you don’t believe me,” David exclaimed. “Have you never watched a rom-com? Friends are supposed to believe each other, Patrick!”

Patrick cocked his head to the side. “I don’t know, David. I’m your friend, and personally, I think you’re pretty unbelievable.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized what he’d said, what he’d admitted, and immediately wished them back. 

David stilled. “I. Um. That’s a really nice thing to say.” He looked at the forgotten sweater in his hands, which he’d been waving around as he gestured excitedly about peanuts and romcoms. The pause was interminable. “So, we’re friends?” he asked eventually.

Patrick blinked. “Of course we’re friends, David! I’ve been here helping out almost every day for a few weeks now.”

“Well, that’s, um. That’s good then,” David said, still quiet but with an underlying determination that made Patrick weirdly proud of him. “I didn’t know for sure…”

Weirdly proud turned on a dime into desperately, desperately fond. Patrick couldn’t help it. He reached out and gave David a supportive little pat on his arm. God, his sweater was so soft. And the bicep beneath. _Zing._

Zinging was a lot, at times. Sometimes it was the actual worst because it made Patrick turn red and stammer and act like a complete dork. And simultaneously it was the best, and he hoped he never ever stopped zinging with David.

Patrick pulled his hand back eventually, before it got weird, because honestly at that point Patrick was sort of feeling up his not-husband’s bicep in their not-their store. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m mostly here for Mariah.”

“It’s those nice full cheeks, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Patrick said. “Though I’m also learning I’m partial to excellent whiskers.”

David’s mouth twisted up in a private smile, so Patrick shrugged and attempted to change the subject. “Unrelated, do you think Mariah could hit the same high notes as Mariah Carey if we squeezed her?”

“Okay, we are _not_ squeezing our hamster.”

Patrick’s head snapped to him, and David’s lips turned down at the corners. “The _store’s_ hamster,” David clarified.

“Aw, David, I’ll adopt a hamster with you.”

“You will do no such thing.”

“It’s really no problem. I’m already providing a lot of child support. She eats, like, two or three bags of carrots a week.”

“M’kay,” David said. “That’s enough out of you.”

“Carrots don’t grow on trees, David. Especially not the free-range organic fair-trade cage-free apothecary carrots. Though we do get a good markup on those. I mean, you do. You make a lot on those. Great markup.”

David was looking at him then, and Patrick’s ability to tease and toy with him quietly dissolved into nothing; the small smile David was giving him took his breath away. Patrick smiled back helplessly.

Only after Mariah ran by and startled them both did they return to their tagging and pricing and folding.

He’d finished two or three when David interrupted. “I was wondering if I could get some advice,” he asked softly, hesitantly. “Business advice.”

Intuiting that this was also not the time for joking, Patrick said, “Of course, David. You know you can ask me anything,” as he folded one of the throws and moved to the next. But at David’s uncertain “right,” Patrick glanced back, finding that David was watching him, his dark eyes intent. Patrick felt his heart thud in his chest.

“Um,” David looked back at his sweaters. “Um, it’s just that I was thinking I’ll be ready to open soon…”

Patrick’s heart stopped. He swallowed hard. His chest felt like it was being squeezed. If it got much worse, Patrick, too, might squeak out Mariah Carey high notes. He was already trying yet again to figure out how he could possibly explain the whole mess when David continued. 

“I was thinking about doing, like, a soft launch. Um, and you know, testing the store out on a small group of people. Maybe have, like, an exclusive VIP guest list, and offer, you know, a friends and family discount as incentive.”

Patrick’s heart started again and eventually found its normal rhythm as David explained something about a newsletter about goop and veered further and further away from asking about his still-missing business licence. 

“Do you not think people will show?” Patrick asked eventually, attempting to sound normal and falling far from the intended mark. “Because David, I have to say, I really think you have something here.”

David glanced over. “No, I do. I do think, um, that people will come.”

“Have you considered really going for it? Have a big launch party. You could put an ad in the _Elmdale Chronicle,_ post info in town hall, do some social media. Maybe Alexis could help with some marketing.”

Hesitating, David set down the sweaters and nervously shook out his arms. Patrick could feel David’s nerves building. “I don’t actually know how to do any of that marketing stuff. Fuck. There’s still so much to do. Never mind. I’m not ready to open yet. I don’t know what I was thinking. The electrician won’t call me back, and I still have to figure out how to deal with things like taxes and inventory, and I don’t know what markup to use for the bath salts or where to put the applesauce and maple syrup we got in from Mayberry Farms, and how do I make a newspaper ad, and what do I do if I need to visit a vendor during the day, but the store is open—” 

“David, I will help you.” Patrick stood up too, drawn closer to him by a million invisible threads. He was aching to comfort David physically but didn’t dare to reach out.

“It’s too much. I can’t ask that of you.” David looked away. “And anyway, Alexis won’t be here.” 

“First, you didn’t. I offered.” Patrick ached a little at the shyness that lingered on David’s face and his distressed body language. Not too long ago, Patrick would have bet David’s confidence was more or less ever-present, but that was before he’d truly gotten to know him. “And David—” Patrick paused until David met his eyes. “—what makes you think I’ve ever been here for your sister?”

“Besides a lifetime of experience?” David said wryly. “I don’t know. It always made more sense than you being here for the store.”

Patrick hummed in response. “Tell you what. If you buy lunch, I’ll go through your markups and set up some spreadsheets for you to track your inventory. I bet we can cross a bunch of items off your to do list. Maybe we can even make the math work on those bath salts, so you have some extra cash to, say, bring on a business consultant to do your taxes and have some help when you need to run to some farm to pick up pinecones and goat’s milk during the hours the store is supposed to be open.”

“You would, um, want to do that?”

“Who says it would be me?” Patrick said as seriously as he could manage.

“Okay, but you can’t just say that—” David protested. 

“Time for lunch, David.” Patrick grinned.

David huffed, his mouth curling into Patrick’s favourite lopsided smile. “Well, I don’t know whether you’re serious, but we’d have to sell a lot of bath salts if we’re going to make all that happen,” he commented, grabbing his wallet and phone before leaving for the café.

“Then I guess we better do a hard launch,” Patrick called out over the little bell that sounded as David opened the door and closed it quickly behind him, though Patrick wasn’t sure if the end goal was keeping Mariah in or the other hamsters out.

  


*********

  


Later that night, David texted to ask whether Patrick would help him on opening day, and Patrick immediately said yes.

Then David asked Patrick if he thought the Friday two weeks out was a good date, and again, Patrick said yes, because it was, and David would be ready by then.

Finally, David hesitantly asked if Patrick thought his business licence would be in by then, and Patrick said yes, any day now, and swore to himself he’d call Service Ontario first thing Monday morning to pay the stupid fee and get the licence amendment rushed through no matter what it took. And if that weren’t possible, he’d tell David, but he wanted to do it in person. Important conversations were best in person. Patrick should…he should tell David. He should’ve told David weeks ago. But all he could do was imagine how proud David would be—and how proud he would be of David—when he stood behind the register, the correct business licence displayed on the wall behind him. First thing Monday morning, he’d make sure everything was taken care of.

After they texted goodnight, Patrick went online and immediately ordered a frame for the licence so David could hang it up as soon as Patrick gave it to him.

Because regardless of whether David preferred a soft or hard approach for his opening, Patrick desperately wanted to be a part of it. Winnipeg seemed to understand as he gave her a gentle pet with his finger before brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed.

  


*********

  


Apparently, Service Ontario was not in the business of rushing, and two days prior to the official launch, the amended licence had still not arrived. So it was with a sick feeling in his belly that Patrick made his way to Rose Apothecary. The whole situation was embarrassing—what kind of business major can’t get a business licence application accurately filled out and approved? And that was on top of the mortification he felt because the business licence that listed them as co-owners as well as Schitt’s Creek’s latest newlyweds.

David was in the back when Patrick arrived at Rose Apothecary, but he came out front when Patrick arrived, a coffee cup in hand. A second cup sat on the counter by the register, and David nudged it toward him. 

“Thanks,” Patrick said, because while it was lukewarm at best, the tea bag was still in it (and had been for way too long), and there was no splash of milk, David had thought of him, gotten it for him, so in that way, it was the best cup of tea he’d ever had.

As Patrick took a long drink, David’s eyes zeroed in on the paper bag he was carrying. “Oooh, what’s in the bag? Anything for me this time? You always get everything for Mariah. It’s like you don’t care at all.”

Patrick chuckled awkwardly. “Well, that’s definitely not it.” What the bag contained was a framed copy of the only approved business licence he’d managed to get, co-owned by Patrick and David Rose-Brewer. Spotlights and megaphones would’ve been more subtle in terms of proof that Patrick cared too much, too early. 

“I’m just saying you could prove it once in a while,” David said, pursing his lips so as not to smile but failing spectacularly. 

“I mean, yesterday I did offer you some of Mariah’s lettuce, but you said lettuce takes up valuable pizza space.” 

“I’m not wrong,” David insisted. 

Patrick was never going to make it through this conversation. Forcing himself to smile, Patrick said, “Um, David, can we talk?”

David’s face instantly fell, but he caught himself quickly, and by the time he’d taken a seat on the stool by the register, he’d managed to neutralize his reaction. “Okay.” He sounded resigned. “So, what? You’re leaving? You probably found another business to help that you like better, someone who knows what they’re doing, so it actually has a chance of succeeding. Um, if you could excuse me for one moment, I need to find Mariah. She might need a hug. She was really hoping those other grants would work out.” He stood to go find her, then spun around in a confused circle. “God dammit we need to put a bell on her or something.” He said, looking around and talking faster and faster as he started spiraling. “She’s always disappearing and then later showing up out of nowhere and making me spill coffee on my designer knits.”

“David, wait. I don’t care about any other business right now, and I’m not leaving unless you tell me to.”

Hesitating for a few seconds, eventually David sat back down. “Okay.”

“But, well, there's something that uh...that I've been meaning to tell you.” Patrick set the bag on the counter. “Uh, yeah. So, I guess this doesn't really come naturally. Um...” He cleared his throat. “When I filled out your business licence application, I accidentally mailed in the wrong version to the province. It was approved, but there are, uh, errors that, um, need to be corrected. I tried to take care of the amendments to make sure it was fixed for your opening day, but it doesn’t look like we’ll get the new version in time.” 

David looked confused more than anything. “What exactly does that mean? Do I need to cancel the opening?” 

“I guess that’s up to you,” Patrick said, cringing a little. “Legally, you’re fine. The business, Rose Apothecary, was approved, and the government issued the licence. It’s just that your name isn’t correct on the form. Among other things. Maybe you should, uh.” He gestured to the bag. 

Frowning, David reached for the bag and pulled out the framed licence that was inside. His brow furrowed as he read it. “Um. What is this?”

“Yeah, so. David, I—I need to explain a couple of things.”

“Um, what would be the main one, do you think?” 

Patrick cringed. “So, um, until I get the paperwork fixed, we co-own Rose Apothecary, because we’re, um, we’re married, I guess? I messed up the form. And now the government thinks we're together. Thinks you’re my husband.” Patrick couldn’t look him in the eye. “It’s all a mistake, obviously. I’m fixing it,” he rushed to add. “It should only be a few more days. Maybe a week at most. But it will probably be too late for the soft launch.”

“Um, okay. I have a couple questions.” David was still frowning at the licence.

“How many of the questions are about us being married?”

“Most of them.”

“David, I’m sorry. I never meant to mail in this version of the form. We’re obviously not—it was silly. I was being silly.”

“Mmm, yes, well, marrying David Rose would be a very funny joke.” David had a repertoire of at least one thousand different smiles, but the one he now plastered over his genuine reaction singularly didn’t belong there, and Patrick hated the wrongness of it.

“No—that’s not what I meant.” Patrick huffed. He was too warm. It was too hot in here. “I just—I know you don’t want…” He looked away. “I really liked your business idea. From the beginning. It was so inventive, and I don’t know, I wanted to be a part of it. I was just. Goofing around. Wishing I could do this with you. I had the real version, a copy of the one you have, ready to submit, but somehow the wrong form got mailed in. I must have mailed in the wrong form.” 

“Oh,” David said. “So, you, um, wanted to be partners…”

“Yes,” Patrick admitted. In business and romance, but he’d take whatever he could get. “I was hoping maybe once some other grants came in, if you were interested, we could talk about it.” 

David hummed. “You should have told me. Like. A lot of things.”

“I know.” Patrick said, because it was true, and why did he always do this? “I’ve been trying to get it corrected for the past few months and—”

“Whoa. Over the past few _months_? And you didn’t think to tell me about this?” David demanded, clearly agitated. “You told me I had nothing to worry about.”

“You're upset. I would be, too. I just didn't want it to affect…this. Our friendship,” he tried to explain.

“I told you what my parents did, funding my gallery without telling me. You knew that. And you’ve co-owned Rose Apothecary and have for months without telling me.”

“Do you want me to go?” He watched as Mariah approached David’s elbow, nose twitching, and tried not to sound as crestfallen as he felt.

David ignored him. He looked down and began petting the soft little black and white head. “And the rest? The...hyphens?”

Patrick felt his face heat again. He took a drink of his god-awful best tea ever to buy himself time. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. But I am fixing it, David, I swear.” He forced a smile. “We’ll be divorced before you know it.”

“Now that sounds more like a David Rose marriage.” David stopped petting the hamster and poured about a cup and a half of hand sanitizer in his palm, probably wishing he could dunk the entire hamster in the Purell instead. 

Patrick felt something break inside his chest. “David—” Patrick’s voice cracked, but David spoke over him.

“Would you still want, um, to be partners? Involved with Rose Apothecary. Officially.”

“Yes.” Always. Patrick felt a tiny flare of hope in his chest.

David eyed him. “I will—I will take that into consideration. But much like that shipment of the gorgeous tobacco flower and clove candles and soaps we got in this morning from New Brunswick, I am also, unfortunately, damaged goods, and this has really messed things up for me. And I think I need some time with it.”

“All right,” Patrick agreed quietly. “I’ll leave this here with you then, and you can um, tell me what you want to do.” Patrick gestured toward the licence.

“To clarify,” David said, “my options are what exactly?”

“You can push back the launch if you want to do it solely under your name, maybe in a week or two. Or you can open and maybe find somewhere discreet to post this licence temporarily and hope that no one notices or explain the truth if anyone asks. Hope Roland doesn’t go and out you to the government because he likes to think he has influence. Though you could blame me obviously. Or I guess you could open, and we could pretend what the licence says is true until the corrected version comes in. Just to be safe.”

“Okay, well, I don’t want to push back the opening. Getting the word out about the opening the first time was hard enough. Changing it now will be more of a mess than Ariana Grande’s whole hand tattoo situation.”

“I agree,” Patrick said tentatively, having to trust David on the tattoo part. “If you want my help during the opening, I’m—I’d still like to. I could be your business partner that night. I’m obviously not a real partner. But we could pretend temporarily to avoid any issues. Whatever you need, David.”

David’s hands twisted anxiously in his lap, and Patrick felt so, so awful. “I’m so sorry, David. I thought I could—doesn’t matter what I thought. I should have said something sooner.”

Standing and placing the licence down carefully, David said, “I should get back to work. I need—there’s a lot to do still. I’ll, um, I’ll text you. Later.” 

He looked tired. And sad. And Patrick’s chest ached for him, knowing he was the cause.

“Wait. Patrick.”

Patrick turned back.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” David’s eyes were intent on his.

Finding the truth ready on his tongue for once, Patrick frowned and said, “It was embarrassing, and I thought I could fix it.”

“Right.” David looked down and when he looked back up, his face was a mask. “Bye, Patrick.”

“Goodbye,” Patrick said, and walked out the door of Rose Apothecary, unsure of if or when he’d be welcomed back. He could only hope.

He paused outside to let a hamster in a yellow plastic ball cut in front of him on its way to the café before he started home in the opposite direction.

  


*********

  


Patrick received a text that night, right before bed. David had his own text tone, so when he heard it sounding, his stomach knotted up anew. 

David  
  
I wanna open Fri as planned  
  
lets pretend to b partners  
  
see how it goes  
  
unless ur still embarassed haha  
  


Patrick quickly replied before David changed his mind.

David  
  
Never. I’d like that. I want to help. Anything you need.  
  
What about our joint names on the licence. You said is has to b displayed promintently.  
  
Do we need to pretend about that? say we r together? I don’t want roland to arrest me  
  
god knows where those cuffs have been  
  


Patrick stopped and held his breath. Did David mean…? He distractedly chewed on his nail before typing a response.

David  
  
If Roland decides to arrest someone, I’ll take one for the team, but only if you never bring up his handcuffs again.  
  
K MAYBE we should tho just in case  
  
be partners outside of work too  
  
make sure we r legal for the opening  
  
seems easiest  
  
I am a good actor  
  


Given that David could barely control his face on a good day, Patrick had serious doubts about this, but he couldn’t have cared less. He felt his throat catch, and a buzzing feeling began to grow in his belly. He started to feel a little lightheaded with the possibilities before him. He knew it was silly, but the chance to pretend to be with David, the little fantasy of sharing a life and business with him, it was too tempting to resist. And what was the harm? 

So. In for an apothecary, as they say. 

Grinning, he typed his response, visions of co-owners and husbands already dancing in his head.

David  
  
It does seem like the safest way to handle it. I’m in.  
  
if we r arrested who will  
  
watch Mariah  
  
ok partner  
  
I’m sure she could stay with Ray Jr., Winnipeg, Scout, Tiny, Bluebell, Isis, Princess Diana, Ray III, and Lute.  
  
babies arrived?  
  
I’m never getting my bathroom back.  
  
See you tomorrow Patrick. Need help if we r gonna open Fri. bring coffee  
  
I’ll see you bright and early, 9 am!   
  
this divorce cant come soon enough  
  



	3. Joint Chequing

Patrick brought coffee: an extra-large one for David and a small espresso for himself. He didn’t always drink coffee, but he’d had trouble sleeping the night before, excitement keeping him tossing and turning well into the night.

When he entered the shop, he found himself stuck in the doorway, uncertain of how to proceed, but then David quirked a smile at him from where he was arranging refrigerated items in the large cooler, and Patrick found himself drawn in, or, more precisely, drawn closer to David.

“Hi,” David breathed.

“Hi.” Patrick grinned, and gave him his coffee. “How are you?”

“It’s before 10am, and I’m elbow deep in olive tapenade. How do you think I’m doing?”

“David, you’re just arranging little jars.”

“That is correct. And the little jars are up to my elbows.”

“Okay, David.” Patrick smiled. “I’ll go finish updating the spreadsheets for the opening tomorrow. I’ll be in the back.”

“Could you, um, call the electrician while you’re there?”

“Uh, David, wasn’t that something you were doing?” Patrick asked with feigned incredulity, knowing full well David kept putting it off due to some past trauma involving overalls and tool belts? Patrick wasn’t entirely clear on the story, but it somehow also involved Alicia Silverstone, a chinchilla, and a bullhorn.

“Well, I was going to do it yesterday, but then I got caught talking with my business consultant who told me—get this—that I’m basically married, so then I had to deal with that little situation, and—”

“All right, I will call the electrician. Dare I ask about the insurance?” Patrick said. Then, after glancing at David, who was seesawing his head back and forth, he added, “And I’ll check on the insurance, too, apparently. Simply curious, though…how often do you plan to use this against me? Just so I know. Are we talking a couple days that I’ll be doing your bidding, or…?”

“Let’s see how it goes.” David said. “I want to make sure I get every possible—oh fuck!” David jumped out of his skin as Mariah ran up his arm and settled on his shoulder. “She’s going to give me a pulmonary embolism one of these days,” he informed Patrick before craning his neck to look at Mariah. “You’re going to give me a pulmonary embolism,” he admonished her.

“I don’t actually think that’s how pulmonary embolisms work,” Patrick felt the need to point out.

“Sure, now everyone’s a vet.” David said as Mariah used his ear for leverage to scamper up onto David’s hair. “Ow, oh. Oh, Mariah, no. No, Mariah! Patrick, help!” David squawked.

“Get her off my—oh fuck, she’s going to ruin my—I was having such a good hair day, Patrick!”

“Yup, coming,” Patrick said, because every day was a good hair day for David as far as he could tell. “Just let me, um, okay. Come here, you little critter.” He scooped up the hamster and set her down by the lip balm, the intimacy of getting to touch David’s hair making his stomach flutter as he did so.

When he turned back, David was still very, very close.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

“Wel—welcome,” Patrick croaked. “I’ll, ah, go get back to those books, or, well, I guess I’ll go to them the first time, since I can’t go back to them until I’ve already been, uh, to them. At least once.”

“Patrick.”

“Yes?”

“The electrician?”

“Right,” he said and spun around, heading to the back room where they kept the paperwork.

“Patrick?”

Patrick stuck his head back out. “Yeah?”

“Maybe we can get lunch later and talk through how to make all this—” He gestured widely at the store, himself, Patrick, and the licence Patrick could now see hung behind the cash. “—work.”

“Want me to order pizza?”

“Obviously. And a—”

“Side salad for Mariah. Yup, got it.” Patrick shook his head and retreated into the back room. He let out a long slow breath and then got to work.

The hours passed quickly, and soon enough Patrick heard their pizza order arrive, so he wrapped up his spreadsheets, saved his lovingly created pivot tables, closed his laptop, and cleared off some space so they could sit down and put the box somewhere that wouldn’t endanger any of their inventory with grease or sauce. David was a flailer, and Patrick didn’t want a side of collateral damage served with his pizza if David got going.

David appeared with the pizza box, a small carton of salad and some napkins stacked on top. He had a giant half-eaten slice of pepperoni and extra cheese in his other hand and two water bottles tucked between his arm and chest. Patrick desperately wanted to kiss him even if it sent everything tumbling to the ground.

“You’re a treasure,” Patrick joked and gleefully watched him juggle the various items before finally taking pity on him, taking the pizza box, salad, and napkin pyramid, and putting them in the cleared space so David could set down the other items he was carrying, or at least some of them. David Rose would never dream of setting down a pizza he’d previously claimed as his own.

As David got settled, Patrick popped open the salad and took out a few slices of carrot and radish, as well as a few squares of lettuce and cabbage. He set them in front of Mariah who’d been napping next to his laptop mouse. Her eyes twitched a few times, before she finally roused herself in favour of food. He still couldn’t quite figure out why David allowed Mariah to stay, but they certainly did share many of the same priorities.

“So, what else needs to be done for tomorrow?” Patrick asked when they both had a slice of pizza in them, and David was less likely to be hangry. “The electrician will be here at 8am, but don’t worry, I can come in an hour early to be here for that. And our insurance will take effect at midnight tonight.”

“Thanks,” David said. “The produce and remaining dairy items will arrive in the morning, we’ll have to inventory and label those before we open in the afternoon. Today I want to finalize the playlists, get an amended contract out to Smyth & Sons, and rearrange the last-minute organic free-range hamster supply section we added. Is there anything else that needs to be priced and labeled?”

“Just that box,” Patrick said, nudging the still unopened box labeled Goodwood Oils.

“Oh, the lube, it’s good stuff. I couldn’t decide where to put it.” David frowned, as Patrick tried to act like he wasn’t suddenly dying inside. “Like, I was thinking along with the grooming products? But then maybe a personal care section might be better, but if we do that, we’ll have to move the foot cream to eye level, and I don’t know if I can live with that. We should think about where else we could squeeze in the lube.”  
Patrick, who had nearly gotten himself under control, started coughing again. “Not sure,” he choked out.

“Well, you must have some idea where we can put it.”

Patrick helped himself to another piece of pizza, which was an avoidance tactic more than anything, “I’m just the numbers guy, David, remember?”

David hummed. “Well, let’s keep thinking about it.”

Patrick nodded, because at this point, he would have trouble not thinking about lube all afternoon.

An awkward silence lapsed over them. David cracked several knuckles, and Patrick took sudden interest in the ingredients label on the back of the water bottle David had brought him.

 _Water_ , it listed. Well, that was…something. He put down the water bottle.

David cleared his throat. “So.”

“So,” Patrick echoed.

“I guess we should figure out how this is going to work.” David said, gesturing between them. “What it will look like. I mean, I don’t think anyone would doubt it for a second if they found out you were officially a Rose Apothecary partner, especially since you worked on all those grants, and you’re here basically every day.” David paused to take a drink and looked at him over the top of his water bottle. “Because you like the store.”

Patrick nodded. “Because I love the store.”

“Right. Even Stevie and Alexis will believe that easily enough if they don’t already. So that part is simple.”

“I agree.” Ray was the only person Patrick really had to convince, and Ray was way more concerned with his new hamster-sitting business, which conveniently paired nicely with his travel planning business, though less so with his latest interest in cookware. At least, Patrick hoped. “So that leaves…”

“Convincing everyone somehow that we’re together, and at some point, we got married and took each other’s names?”

“Seems that way,” Patrick said. “Though I don’t think we need to convince everyone. A few select people will do. Ray, maybe Jocelyn? Twyla? And let it spread from there. Ray alone would probably take care of it, honestly. Everyone would know within hours.”

“So how do we convince Ray we’re married without me actually having to actually speak to him, because Patrick, I’m not sure I would survive that in my delicate state.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Yes, Patrick. _Obviously_ , I’m feeling very vulnerable so close to the opening. Much, much too fragile to interact with your vociferous landlord.”

“Well, my vociferous landlord is the only one I have at the moment, so I think we might have to. Unless he sees us together— _together_ together, I’m not sure he’ll believe it. Which, actually, it occurs to me that he won’t believe it if we don’t, um, sleep together. In the same room, I mean. Recently married couples probably do that.” Patrick cringed. “Maybe this isn’t—maybe we shouldn’t do this. I don’t want to make you—”

“Do you snore?”

“David—”

“Patrick, I sleep two metres _from my sister_. How much worse can it be?”

Not worse at all, Patrick thought. And also very, very much worse. If he zinged with David in broad daylight, when everyone was fully clothed in their sartorial armour of choice, being near David in the dark would likely have him shooting off fireworks. And those were words he just said to himself.

“I don’t know, David.”

“I really don’t think we have a choice. We can’t stay at the motel in a single bed with my sister right there. She’d sniff us out in a hot sec.”

“I guess at Ray’s at least I can sleep on the floor, though Ray isn’t good about privacy, so I might have to jump into bed with you if we hear him coming. And, um, you recall that I no longer have a separate bathroom, right?” Patrick knew his cheeks grew pink at this but hoped it wasn’t too noticeable.

“Fuck,” David said. “Fucking fuck. I have to share a bathroom with Ray.” He groaned dramatically. “At least he’s probably cleaner than Alexis. Also, we are all adults here, so I’m sure we can successfully share the bed. I don’t want you sleeping on the floor; you’re not a hamster. And I need you for manual labour here at the store, so I have a vested interest in you not fucking up your back or something.”

“I don’t know, David. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Oh my god, Patrick. It’s fine. Unless you think _you’ll_ be uncomfortable?” David looked at him while trying to seem like he wasn’t looking at him.

“No,” Patrick rushed to correct him. “No, I’ll be. I’m all good. Definitely don’t mind. But, uh, we probably also have to, um, act like we’re together, you know, physically. When people are around.” Patrick’s face warmed further thinking about it: taking David in his arms and kissing him sweetly as half the town looked on.

“It’s fine.” David waved his hand, dismissing this concern away, leaving Patrick surprised by how easygoing David was being about all of it, if he was honest. It was very unlike David to be easygoing about much of anything. David continued flippantly, “I’ve kissed, like, a thousand people,” and Patrick couldn’t help the wave of emotion that swept through him at this, because David’s tone indicated he wasn’t as happy about this as he wanted to seem.

Patrick opened his mouth to address it when David cut him off, the concern in his eyes more notably present after its previous absence. “Again, unless you’re against PDAs. Which, I’d understand if that were the case. We can find, um, another way if you want to avoid pretending to be with me like that.”

“I’m not uncomfortable with you, David.” Understatement of the year. David’s eyes softened and his gentle smile warmed, and Patrick felt himself melt in response. “Uh, okay, hang on, let me turn on my laptop and take notes. We can go over our backstory. And we should probably make some decisions about what types of physical affection we’re, um, okay with.”

David looked amused. “I should warn you that my family might be pretty suspicious. My mom never pays much attention to what’s going on, but Alexis and my dad will probably be hurt they didn’t know.”

“We’ll find a way to make it okay. Let me make a quick spreadsheet and we can go through everything,” Patrick said, rubbing his hands together while the computer booted up. “If we announce our marriage during the grand opening tomorrow, people will eat that up. But there’s a lot of risk; we could get caught out in front of everyone, which wouldn’t look great and probably wouldn’t inspire people to buy things from us. We could start by telling Ray that night and begin letting everyone else know the next day unless Ray beats us to it? Either way, it’ll mean tonight would be your last night at the motel. Is that okay?” He paused and saved a copy of the Excel doc for them to use. When David nodded, he started making notes. “Okay, David. We’ll have a foolproof plan in no time. Let’s start with how to convince Ray.”

By the time they left that night, everything they needed to do was done, apart from a few last-minute details. Patrick felt ready, and, if the way David was walking around and happily showing display after display to Mariah was any indication, he was feeling good about things too.

He watched David fondly as he continued his tour with Mariah, and when David unexpectedly looked up and met Patrick’s gaze with sparkling eyes and a mouth curled up with quiet joy, Patrick helplessly mirrored the same response back.

They just might be able to pull it off. All of it.

  


*********

  


“Good morning, David!” Patrick burst into the apothecary with an extra coffee and a song in his voice. Launch day had arrived, and he was officially a fake part of it. After the electrician had finished, he’d run to the café for supplemental energy in the form of caffeine, and by the time he got back, David had arrived, in more or less human form.

“Mmnnngh.”

Make that less.

“You’re welcome,” Patrick said, handing him the macchiato that had been fashioned, hopefully to his exacting specifications. “Where’s Mariah?”

David said something even less intelligible and gestured vaguely to the wall of pantry staples.

Patting him on the shoulder as he went by, Patrick headed to the kitchen section and eventually located the hamster napping on a pile of cloth napkins. He scooped her up, set her down on a table, and pulled a tiny harness out of his pocket. Carefully, he placed it around her abdomen and fastened the little bell he’d found in Ray’s craft bin onto it. When she scampered away, it tinkled softly.

“There,” he said, heading back over to David. “Now she won’t startle you anymore.”

David blinked slowly.

“And this way we can put a leash on her, just for the crowded opening. I know you are insistent that she maintain her freedom, as much as possible anyway, from the trappings of capitalism and the unfortunate systemic influence of the patriarchy.”

David’s sleepy eyes darkened.

“And obviously I agree that life in an apothecary presents moral dilemmas for what is basically a pooping cotton ball—a cute one, but a pooping cotton ball nonetheless—but this will keep her safe from the equally unfortunate systemic influence of Schitt’s Creek footwear choices, which you’ve also complained about at length,” Patrick felt the need to remind him.

Parting his lips, David traced his tongue along his bottom lip. He was still watching Patrick with a heavy-lidded gaze.

Patrick couldn’t look away. “I, uh, know, it’s too early for you to think.” He shrugged sheepishly, suddenly a little embarrassed by his deliberate purchase of a hamster harness. At least it wasn’t studded. “You can thank me later,” Patrick joked and went to move past him, patting him on the shoulder as he went.

But David set down his coffee and pulled Patrick into his arms. “Nggh miiinnollf.”

“I know, David. You’re welcome.” Patrick said, smiling happily and patting David on the back as he stood wrapped up in his long arms. “Nog minnolf to you too.”

David squeezed him tighter.

“Okay, go become human,” Patrick said, letting him go at last. “We open in an hour.”

A few minutes before they were supposed to open, David came to the back room to find him, sleepiness replaced by frantic energy. Nerves had set in. Patrick’s stomach contained butterflies of its own.

“David?” Patrick asked, as David stepped into his space, shaking out his hands. David searched his eyes for a moment. “I just. What if—”

“It’s going to go well,” Patrick said. “It’s going to go so, so well.”

David hesitated, then started to turn to head back out to the front of the store, but Patrick reached for his arm. “David, wait. Come here,” Patrick said, aiming to give him a quick hug, pausing only to whisper in his ear. “You’re gonna do great.”

David made a small sound, and Patrick hugged him tighter before letting him go.

 _I’ve got you,_ he thought. _I’ll always support you._

“Let’s open our store,” he said.

  


*********

  


The launch went by in a blur.

Patrick knew he ran the register and refilled wine glasses and answered questions and restocked whatever was within reach when he had a chance, though these opportunities were rarer than he imagined they would be. But through the mad, chaotic rush that was their opening day, singular moments had stood out, bright white, and warm, and still, like someone hit the pause button, caramelizing time to stretch enough so Patrick could take them in and wrap them up carefully in his mind to savour later.

The discovery of Mr. Hockley’s special tea.

The look of pride on David’s parents’ faces, which David unfortunately missed completely.

Ted’s attempt to recover politely when he learned the price of a stick (“I never wood have guessed, bud!”), and Ray advising David to sell custom mugs and coasters featuring Rose Apothecary in space or, when seasonally appropriate, under the sea.

Every single time David smiled.

And the moment David joined him at the register, stood warm and solid against Patrick’s side, wrapped his arm around his waist, and then asked everyone present to raise a glass to toast to the opening of Rose Apothecary and his new business partner. The soft warmth of the kiss David placed on his cheek as everyone sipped their zhampagne.

And the long look they had exchanged after, attempting silent communication for the first time where previously dramatic gestures and teasing had been their style, until, feeling dazed, Patrick had started to lean in—an entirely different variety of butterflies fluttering in his chest. David tilted his head, and maybe it was pretend and maybe it wasn’t, but Patrick hadn’t been able to help himself, the electricity, the zinging, it was too magnetic, the pull stronger than reason. Their plan to tell Ray first entirely forgotten, their eyes locked, and he started to close the remaining space between them. The rest of the world fell away, and Patrick wanted, wanted, want—

“Rollie!” Jocelyn yelped as she jumped back into a display of body milk, sending additional bottles crashing to the ground, Roland having accidentally dropped an open bottle of peppermint and eucalyptus foot cream. Globs of it landed all over at least four people and the various hamsters accompanying them, including a sizable amount in Jocelyn’s right eye. Ray shoved in close to capture the moment with his camera, and Patrick and David had sprung apart while trying desperately to pretend they hadn’t almost done what they’d almost just done while also attempting to look completely at ease together in front of the crowd.

By all other measures, the launch was a success, and even David seemed uninterested in crying over some spilled body milk, so after, when everyone else had left, Patrick pulled David into a congratulatory hug that seemed to go on and on, giving them time to settle into each other. Uncovering yet another way they fit together. Or so Patrick thought, and wished, and wanted.

After they’d cleaned up, and the day’s fast-forwarded hours had slowed to warm molasses, and they were slightly tipsy from the glasses of zhampagne and a lot intoxicated from the day as a whole, and, in Patrick’s case, his ever-increasing attraction to his not-really-his husband…after all of _that_ —that’s when it was time to go to Ray’s.

David finished closing up and gathered his overnight bag while Patrick removed their free-range intern’s harness for the night, setting her up with celebratory sunflower seeds and a fresh tube to demolish before joining David so they could leave together.

“Car’s over here,” Patrick gestured, and that’s when it dawned on him that the strangest part of his day might not have even begun yet.

  


*********

  


“After you,” Patrick said, ushering David into Ray’s front door. “Unless you want me to carry you across the threshold or something.”

David shuddered. “Um, how about let’s not. Is Ray home—Oh god,” David said. Then quieter, as he looked around: “Oh _god_.”

“You get used to it,” Patrick offered.

“Do you?” David asked, taking in more of Ray’s 1980’s grandma aesthetic.

“Not really,” he admitted, leading the way through the living room and past the kitchen.

“Do you need anything? We can get settled in and then maybe find a movie or—”

“Patrick?” Ray called from the kitchen. “Patrick! Your copy of _Small Business Lovers Monthly_ came in the mail today. I put it on your desk since I know you were looking forward to the spread on Flash Fill—oh, David! What a nice surprise.” Ray emerged from the kitchen, his eyes ping-ponging between them before eventually turning to David. “I thought your new business was very nice, but have you considered adding those mugs and coasters we discussed? We could do keychains too, of course. Or socks! Rose Apothecary socks would be extremely popular. Here look at mine!” Ray pulled up his pant leg to reveal a pair of green socks with his face embroidered on them. “So many possibilities. Would you like to see some samples? We have a second volcano option.”

“Mmhm. That is certainly an option,” David said, shoving Patrick forward. “We’ll consider it for sure.”

“Hey Ray, we didn’t mean to disturb you. We’re going to go upstairs. Thanks again for coming today,” Patrick said, gesturing David to the stairs.

“I finished cleaning up,” Ray said, “so it’s absolutely no bother at all! Would you like to join me for a movie or some backgammon? Patrick and I play almost every night.”

“Well, not every night,” Patrick corrected quickly.

“That’s true,” Ray said. “Sometimes we play Hungry, Hungry Hippos or Battleship.”

One glance at David indicated none of these were welcome additions to his agenda, so Patrick said, “Not tonight, I don’t think. It’s been a long day.” David nudged him. “And uh, we want to spend some time together.” David suddenly felt very warm at his back, and a split-second later David’s arm wrapped around him from behind, pulling him closer.

Ray blinked twice, his smile wide and temporarily frozen in place, and Patrick could practically see the cogs turning—rather like the hamster wheel in his bathtub. And then everything must have slipped into place because Ray grew even more excited than he normally did at the prospect of company. “Well, of course. Of course! I didn’t realize you two were—but then, Patrick always did go on—”

“Uh, Ray, we’re gonna go—”

“Pish posh, Patrick. David, you’re welcome anytime. If you let me know in advance, I can prepare a nice dinner for us all. How about next Tuesday? I’ll pencil it in. How do you feel about paella? Perhaps with a nice flan.”

Patrick found David’s forearm and squeezed it briefly in apology. “Oh, that’s okay, Ray, you don’t—”

“Two please. And thank you,” David said, interrupting.

Trying not to laugh, Patrick found himself agreeing. “I guess we’ll all have dinner Tuesday then.”

“That sounds excellent. Enjoy your evening!” Ray waggled his brow.

“Aaand that’s our cue.” Patrick said, turning David and giving him a gentle push up the stairs. “Goodnight, Ray.”

“Goodnight, Patrick! David!”

Finally getting a door shut between Ray and David made Patrick sigh with relief. “Sorry,” Patrick said. “He can be—”

“Never mind that. That, I expected,” David said, peering around, a look of delight on his face. “ _This,_ I did not. Can we talk about your room?”

“Oh god,” Patrick said. “I didn’t choose any of it. It was all here when I moved in.”

“Patrick. Oh, no. No, this isn’t good, Patrick.” David began lifting things up and putting them back down to get a closer look. “Look at this!” he said, raising a giant ceramic pink and gold bunny that stood upright on his chest of drawers and stared at Patrick while he slept. “Okay, this thing is creepy as fuck, Patrick.” He set it back down facing the wall. “This will not do,” he said, smiling crookedly. He put his hands on Patrick’s shoulders and gave them a little squeeze. “We will make this better for you. And for me. But mostly for you.”

Patrick laughed. “Okay, David.”

“Creepy kittens and ceramic bunnies belong on a farm, Patrick, not in a bedroom.” David sat on the corner of Patrick’s bed, which…what sorts of farms was David visiting? “Also, I will need room for my things,” he added.

Patrick nodded. “Can we do that tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is acceptable,” David confirmed.

It wasn’t even that late, but Patrick felt exhausted, and while the discovery of Ray’s-cum-Patrick’s ugly bunnies and Grammy-chic chair doilies had temporarily put a spring in David’s step, even that was clearly fading. Patrick looked around the bedroom, seeing it with David’s fresh eyes; there really wasn’t that much space. This living situation was obviously going to cramp David’s style. “I’m sorry I don’t have more space to offer. I can condense my things, but it’s probably not what you’re used to.”

“Losing what I was used to happened about two years ago. Besides, I haven’t slept in a bed this big since I left New York. I’m looking forward to it.” He bounced a little on the mattress.

“That’s something, at least. It’s a queen, so it shouldn’t be too bad. I’ll get some extra pillows and towels for you. Oh, and I should show you the bathrooms. The real one and the one that used to be mine but now holds three generations of hamsters. Winnipeg and Ray Jr have single-handedly populated an entire bathtub and are now proud grandparents of eight. But technically you can still use the sink and stuff in there.”

“Uh, did Ray adopt others, or is this more of a Bloomfield situation in your bathroom?”

“I don’t know what a Bloomfield situation is, but we did not get more. More like they begot themselves. But we are about to have less. Ray has promised to turn most of them over to Ted this weekend. He’s even discussed getting a real cage since one of them got out a few days ago, and Ray woke up to MC Hamster looking him in the eyes from the next pillow.”

“You know.” David sounded strangled. “I think—I think, um, I might have to go? I. Um.”

Patrick grabbed his arm. “Stay. I promise to protect you from any rogue hamsters. Also, I shove a towel beneath the door every night now to make sure none get in.”

“That’s nice of you, but I was referring more to the name, because I cannot possibly stay with someone who intentionally chose the name MC Hamster.” David added.

“I probably shouldn’t tell you about Scarlett Johamster then.”

“Oh god,” David said. “We can _never_ speak of this again. But, while we’re on the subject of being murdered by a rogue hamster ascending into our marital bed in the night, I would like to formally claim the far side so as not to be murdered first.”

“That’s fine. I don’t have a strong preference about when I’m murdered.” Patrick smiled.

“And on that comforting note, I’ll show you the bathroom if you want to get ready for bed?”

“Yes please,” David said. “Fair warning—I might take a while.”

“Take your time,” Patrick said, though David seemed doubtful that Patrick knew what he was getting into. He led the way to his bathroom to introduce Ray’s ever-increasing hamster collection to David, which lasted no more than thirty seconds before David hard noped out, gratefully accepted a stack of towels, and went to the blissfully rodent-free bathroom to shower and get ready for bed.

While David was occupied, Patrick retreated to his room to change into his own pyjamas and start to wind down himself. He was clearing some space on his night table for David when Ray barged in.

“Uh, Ray, I’m really gonna need you to start knocking before coming in,” Patrick said. “I know I mentioned that before, but given David will be here as well, it’s even more important.”

“Oh, yes, Patrick, of course. Knock-knock!” Ray was bouncing a little with excitement.

“Okay, you’re already in here, so that doesn’t really help. Anyway, what’s up?”

“I was checking to make sure you and David have everything you need. He runs cold, Patrick, so maybe an extra blanket or two?”

“That’s really nice, Ray. Thanks.”

“Maybe you can come with me to get them from the closet and tell me all about David on the way,” Ray suggested hopefully. “I want to know absolutely everything! How long have you been together? Because you’ve been talking about him for _months_ and, while I can’t picture you together—you know, you’re so different, of course, and well, we’ve already talked about your misshapen head, and David is very particular, but then, he does have that one sweater that’s even more asymmetrical than your ears, so anything is possible—but I support your relationship no matter what if you’re happy.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “But Patrick, if he suggests you try an eyebrow pencil, you don’t have to say yes. You can see yours fine if the light is bright enough.” Ray finally stopped talking and looked at him expectantly.

And that was a lot to unpack, and frankly much of it was best returned to sender unopened, so he focused on the story he and David had worked out. “We haven’t been together that long,” Patrick said. “But we were so happy, we decided to elope at the Elm Valley Courthouse in conjunction with becoming formal partners at work.”

“I’m so sorry, Patrick,” Ray interrupted. “I thought you said eloped! Haha! Obviously, you meant—what exactly did you mean?”

“We eloped? David and I got married there this morning.”

“Oh.” Ray took a step back, and Patrick noticed Ray’s eyes grew watery. Ray brushed away a tear. “I’m sorry, these are happy tears. It’s just...I would have been happy to provide you with discounted wedding photos or honeymoon travel planning or mousepad wedding favours, but that’s okay, Patrick. That’s fine.” Ray sniffed again. “You obviously felt that it was the right choice.”

“I did. We did.” What Patrick was not sure of was how to deal with a weepy Ray, especially because it was unclear which aspect of the situation was causing the tears, but Patrick knew him well enough that he had an idea of what might help. “You know, we haven’t really told anyone yet—you’re basically the first to know. Would you like to share the news on your podcast?”

Perking up rapidly, Ray started smiling again. “The podcast is quite popular in the tri-county area, right behind that series on tractors and tillers. And this way everyone can celebrate this news. They won’t get any mouse pads, but they’ll still probably be somewhat happy for you.”

“Uh, right,” Patrick said.

“Oh, but Patrick, you may have to break the news to the hamsters separately. They don’t seem to care for podcasts. Oh, and I will need five to ten quotes for the podcast. Unless you want me to make them up?”

Suddenly exhausted, Patrick sat down on the bed. “No, um.” Patrick paused. He and David hadn’t come up with much additional detail, which had probably been a mistake, as Patrick was now on his own. “I guess when you know, you know. And David...I knew. Right away, I knew I wanted to be with him. I guess that’s how it started.”

“Well, that’s rather nice, I suppose. I might need to embellish it a little for the podcast, but I’m sure—“

A knock came from behind Ray, and Patrick sat up straight as David peeked his head around the corner of the door frame. “Can I come in?”

“Of course!” Ray said cheerfully. “I was just asking Patrick—”

“Mmm, I heard, yes,” David said, weaving around Ray to put his overnight bag down in the corner, and wearing what looked like incredibly warm fuzzy gray pyjamas. His hair was damp, and his skin was pink, and Patrick wasn’t sure if it was from the shower or what he’d likely overheard, but he wanted to gently run his fingertips over David’s cheek to see if it felt as soft as he imagined. Patrick watched, smiling softly despite himself, as, with more grace than he normally exhibited, David somehow made his way to the bed and slid under the covers in a single move, pulling the blankets up to his chin and humming happily.

“Okay, Ray, it’s late. I need to brush my teeth, then I’ll come grab that extra blanket from you.”

“But Patrick—”

“Let’s go,” he said, practically pushing Ray out of the room. “I’ll be back,” he mouthed to David, who nodded from the cocoon he’d immediately woven from Patrick’s blankets as soon as he’d gotten into bed.

When he came back to his room, it was dark but for Patrick’s small lamp on his nightstand, as David had evidently turned off the other one. He carefully spread the extra blanket over David’s sleeping form and got into bed himself, set his alarm, and turned out the remaining light. He’d sort of been hoping to talk to David, but he could certainly understand how tired David must have been.

He lay there in the darkness, somehow comfortable even though he was sharing his bed and began running through the various moments that made up the day, breathing in and out the success of it.

After enough silence had passed that Patrick wasn’t expecting it, a question found him in the darkness. “Did you mean it?” David asked, soft as anything.

Patrick let one side of his mouth turn up, smiling freely under the protection of darkness. “I knew right away I wanted to be part of your business,” he whispered, and a soft “Night, Patrick,” was returned to him from the far side of the bed.

 _I told you you’d be great,_ he thought. _We were great_.

He smiled, rolled over, and then fake snored into the silence as obnoxiously as possible until David laughed and stole more blankets in retaliation. And as Patrick fell asleep, he realized he’d get to do it all again tomorrow.

  


*********

  


Blinking his eyes open and finding himself still bathed in darkness, Patrick could barely make out the large yeti smashing into various walls and pieces of furniture in his bedroom.

“David?” he asked.

“Huh? Oh, ow. Motherfucker!” David hissed after another crash. “Stubbed my toe. Fucking fuck.” He gave a little one-footed hop and crashed backward into the closet door. A photo of Ray’s great grandmother in an ornate gilded frame crashed to the floor next to him.

“You’re so sweet when you’re sleepy,” Patrick said, closing his eyes again. “I’ll get a night light. Do we sell night lights? We should sell night lights.”

“We do not, but I will consider it in the future,” David said graciously, before adding,

“That’s not going to help me find your bathroom tonight in the pitch black after drinking too much zhampagne. Fuck, that still hurts.”

“Okay,” Patrick said, glancing at the clock, which read 1:34 a.m., and hefted himself up in bed, because if doing so meant he could take care of David and make him comfortable, he knew he would do it ten times over regardless of the hour. “Come on, David.” He yawned and stood up, finding David’s arm in the darkness. “Follow me.” He led them to the door, removed the towel shoved under it, and then let David follow him down the dark hallway to the bathroom. It, at least, had a night light. “There you go,” he whispered, though he didn’t especially need to be quiet because Ray slept with an ambient sound machine that he’d programmed to sound like frogs and bees battling it out in a bustling Parisian café on the ocean during a thunderstorm.

“Thanks,” David breathed. “I can probably find my way back.”

“If you’re still gone in an hour, I’ll come looking. Try not to get in bed with Ray.”

David’s mouth quirked. “Don’t take the blankets while I’m gone,” he said, and shut the bathroom door behind him.

Padding back to his room, Patrick turned on the lamp to the lowest setting and crawled back under the covers to wait. A few minutes later, David came in, shutting the door behind him. Patrick smiled as he watched David roll up the hamster-blocking towel and smashed it under the door, checking for any gaps. Once satisfied, David made his way back to bed in the soft lighting.

“Toes accounted for?” Patrick asked.

“Yes, all eleven.”

Snorting, Patrick rolled to face David, watching him get in and pull the blankets up. His face was shadowed, and he was the most beautiful man Patrick had ever seen. He let out a slow breath. “Today was pretty amazing, wasn’t it?” He smirked. “And I had budgeted twice as much in damages as Roland actually managed, so even that worked out.” Clearing his throat, which was thick with desire, he added, “And we’ve convinced Ray, I think. Tomorrow should be easy by comparison.” He hesitated but felt David deserved what he would have normally kept tucked away. “I, uh, know I fucked things up badly with the paperwork, but you made everything okay.”

He watched David’s expressions bend and curl from one to the next and loved all of them. In the low lamplight, he looked warm and vulnerable and so, so beautiful.

“Don’t say that with the light on. Your eyes are too loud.” David reprimanded once his facial roulette wheel landed on Smile Despite Best Efforts.

“My eyes are loud? You should see your face.”

David huffed and put a pillow over his head. “You should see your face,” he echoed petulantly.

Patrick chuckled, wishing he could pull the pillow away and kiss him. Instead, he reached to turn off the light. “You can come out now.”

David hmphed and began the process of putting the pillow under his head and rearranging everything about his whole pillow and blanket cocoon setup, until he finally snuggled in and made a soft happy sound. Patrick rearranged himself as well, settling in for sleep as the darkness reminded him it was the middle of the night.

“Stevie,” David said quietly, as though he’d just remembered the answer to a question.

“Do you often say other people’s names when you’re in bed with someone?” Patrick tried to joke, but his brain was feeling way too slow and fuzzy, and the words dissipated as soon as they left his mouth, soft and inconsequential.

“S’not gonna be that easy tomorrow,” David said slurring his words as well, and they too melted into the night. “Just sayin’.”


	4. At Cost

The alarm went off late by Patrick’s standards but still far too early according to David. The more sunlight came in the bedroom, the further David burrowed under the cover of blankets and a not insignificant pile of pillows.

“Okay, David, we need to get going. We have a store to run.”

“Mmhmmm,” the lump formerly known as David said. 

“If you get up now, we can stop for coffee and a muffin. We can even pay for it out of the unused Roland Disaster Fund.”

David lifted the tiniest corner of his blankets enough so Patrick could see a single brown eye looking at him, as though judging the veracity of the offer. 

“How about we work out a shift schedule between customers today, since I don’t mind mornings.”

The brown eye blinked slowly at him.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Patrick grabbed his phone and watch. “I’m going downstairs. If you want a ride, I’ll be leaving in twenty minutes,” he said as he left the room, closing the door behind him, not looking back but smiling at the sound of a gasp and struggle of bedclothes from behind him. “That’s not enough time, and you know it!” David called through the door. 

Patrick grinned. He knew David would take longer than that, but he’d built in time to spare, so he wasn’t terribly worried, and he called in their café order so Twyla would have it ready for them just in case they did end up later than he anticipated, which turned out to be a good move. They made it to the apothecary with less than five minutes to spare, and David wasn’t even fully verbal until about 10 minutes before that. But once they’d entered the store, Patrick checked on Mariah while David began fussing and restocking, and when they opened the doors at one minute after ten a.m., there were four people waiting to get in.

David squeezed Patrick’s shoulder at the sight of the line out front—possibly in happiness, possibly in relief—and Patrick felt the now-familiar zing of energy run through him at David’s casual touch.

“Welcome to Rose Apothecary.”

  


*********

  


Shortly before lunch, the door opened, and a short brown-haired woman came in wearing flannel, Converse, and a smirk that Patrick would be proud to achieve himself one day.

“Oh god,” David said, performing some sort of inverted jazz hands gesture near his face, contorted in alarm. “Oh god.” He spun around and disappeared into the back room, likely to find his emotional support hamster.

Confused, Patrick looked after him.

“Patrick, right?” the woman said right as Patrick was starting to put together who she must be. “I’m Stevie. He wouldn’t let me come help before the store was open, which was very rude, but it’s not like I wanted to lift boxes for him,” she added, sounding a lot like she actually wouldn’t have minded helping as long as she could complain throughout the process. Rather like David, actually. 

She looked around, scanning the fully stocked and completed store, before looking pointedly back at him. “But anyway, this all makes a lot more sense now.” 

Unsure what to do with her, he just said, “Uh, well, yep, I’m Patrick. Nice to meet you,” and he stuck out his hand. She looked at it suspiciously before rolling her eyes and giving him the quickest and most awkward handshake that he’d received in a long time. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said. David complained about her incessantly, but always transparently, with a deep current of caring and friendship running below that was plain as day if you were paying attention. 

“None of it is true.”

Emerging from the back with Mariah on his shoulder looking something like a well-trained parrot, David eyed them cautiously. “Stevie.”

“David.” She eyed him steadily. “So I’ve met your business partner. If that’s what we’re calling him today.” A sly grin spread over her face, and her eyes changed in conjunction, and something about it made Patrick realize how pretty she was. In a different way to David, of course, with his highly coiffed and prescriptive style, whereas Stevie basically marched in and didn’t seem to give a fuck about it; if you didn’t notice her because you were focused on her worn, faded flannel, that was on you.

David appeared flustered. “Look. Things were…evolving.” 

“Is that so.” She looked at Patrick. “Pat-rick,” she said, his name sounding different as she broke it into its component parts. “Your partner.” She smiled, catlike, before turning back to David. “Well, are you going to show me around or what?”

“Fine,” David said curtly. “But only if you promise to not insult my choices, and you have to buy something.” He handed Mariah to Patrick, leaving his hands free to drag Stevie through the store. Patrick smiled to himself at the obvious pride in David’s voice despite the words coming out of his mouth.

“How about I make fun of whatever I want, and you give me something at cost. Also, I can’t believe you got a fucking hamster and didn’t tell me,” she said, smacking his arm. “Never thought I’d see _you_ with a hamster. You know you gotta, like, feed it and shit.” 

“Don’t you dare diss Mariah. And of course I feed her. Food is important.” David said.

“I mean, technically I’m the one who usually feeds both of you,” Patrick pointed out.

“M’kay,” David said, reaching over to give her a little scritch from where she sat in Patrick’s palm, looking around at everyone with her beady little eyes. “I’ll have you know I raised six perfectly healthy adult Tamagotchis in high school.”

“According to David, she’s less of a pet and more of an ambassador. She was only an intern yesterday, but she’s moving up quickly. Quite a little go-getter.” Patrick explained to Stevie. “Honestly, I think he just likes the scintillating conversation when I’m not here.” He thought for a moment about the whispers he’d sometimes heard from the storage space in back. “And sometimes even when I am.”

“That’s enough out of you,” David said. “Anyway, Stevie, it’s not like you should talk. You have a hamster and work in a motel. I’m fairly sure it’s illegal to intentionally introduce rodents to a motel. That’s like...reckless endangerment.”

“For the guests or the hamster?” Patrick asked, which seemed like a valid question from what he’s seen of the motel.

“I don’t have a hamster,” Stevie said.

“Um, yeah you do,” David replied.

“No, I don’t,” Stevie said.

“Um. _Yes_ , you _do_. I can see it right in your shirt pocket.” David said, his voice getting louder and higher pitched. Stevie’s pocket gave an untimely wiggle.

“No, I—okay, fine.” Stevie rolled her eyes. “I do. But only because my friend abandoned me.” Stevie patted her pocket and a tiny yellow little head peeked out, before ducking back inside.

“I didn’t _abandon_ anyone,” David exclaimed. “I was launching my—”

“Our,” Patrick corrected.

“— _Our_ store.”

Apparently they were zinging in front of other people now.

Patrick grinned. “Stevie, I’m sorry you had to resort to hamster adoption, but next time come on by. I’ll let you in, even if he won’t,” Patrick said, gesturing to David. “I think he’s jealous because Tommy Versace doesn’t design monochrome sweaters with hamster pockets,” he teased.

“Oh my god. That’s not even a—ugh.” David huffed as Stevie cackled. “Now come on. Do you want to see the store or not?”

“I mean, do I have a choice?” Stevie asked. “Because I kinda want to get to know Patrick here a bit better. Your _partner_. Which, it’s interesting that you call him that, because I heard an interesting rumour from Twyla who heard from Gwen that you two got married.”

“Who the fuck is Gwen?” David asked.

She ignored him. “Anyway, since that is _clearly_ not true, I’d really like to know what the fuck is going on?” 

“Oh, it is true actually. We got married yesterday at the courthouse in Elmdale,” Patrick said casually, and David cringed as Stevie burst out laughing. 

“Um, no, you did not,” she said.

Looking affronted, David said, “Yes, we did.”

At that, Stevie rolled her eyes. “You did not. First, you would have told me. You’ve been acting ‘I suddenly have a business partner’ levels of weird lately, not ‘I’m getting married’ levels of weird. You wouldn’t have been able to stop grinning like a giant dope.”

Patrick glanced at David, who, it turns out, was absolutely grinning like a giant dope, rendering his protests basically useless. He snorted.

“And second,” Steve continued, ignoring the looks they exchanged. “Where are your rings?”

“At the jeweller,” Patrick said as David replied, “We’re not doing that.”

Patrick looked at him. 

“What? I’m not some property to claim! Like—like one of those sheep with the earrings.”

“You’re lying.” Steve looked back and forth between them. “You would never turn down jewelry unless it was a pear-shaped opal or whatever the fuck that giant cheese grater ring was in the Twilight movies we watched when we got high with Alexis and Twyla.”

“Also, we really have to talk about what farms you’re visiting,” Patrick said.

“Okay, fine,” David said to Stevie. “But you can’t tell anyone.”

“Wowww.” Patrick stretched the word like taffy. “You gave us up that easily?”

“Trust me,” Stevie said. “If he’d married you, I would have heard about it. God, you two are gonna fuck this up so bad.”

Patrick frowned. “I mean—” 

“Look,” David interrupted. “It’s just for a few days due to some paperwork issues.”

“I don’t even want to know what that means,” Stevie said. “But fine. I’ll play along. In exchange for that bag of organic hamster food in the corner. Fang really likes that brand.”

“What? No way. That bag is huge.” David said. “I can barely lift it.”

“David, it’s like 14 pounds,” Patrick pointed out. “That’s fine, Stevie. Thank you.”

She grinned. “I like you,” she told Patrick, then, turning to David, she said, “I like him.”

David sighed. “So that’s how this is gonna go.”

  


*********

  


“So that’s Stevie,” Patrick said as they ate lunch in between customers. He gave Mariah a piece of broccoli and cucumber from his salad.

“Yeah. She’s, um…” David trailed off and took a bite of his club sandwich.

“I can see why you’re friends,” Patrick said, spearing pieces of tomato and grilled chicken. “Mutual passion for fashion and hamsters.”

“More like wine and weed, but sure,” David said as the bell jingled on the door indicating the arrival of more customers. “Stay,” he said, wiping his hands on a napkin and slipping out front to be of assistance.

Patrick handed Mariah a piece of his grilled chicken. “Pretty good, huh?”

She looked at him as she stood on two feet and crammed chicken into her cheeks. He ate some of his salad.

“I’m sorry we don’t have pockets for you,” he admitted after a few bites. “David doesn’t have them because they interrupt the line of his silhouette, which, I honestly don’t know what that means any more than you do.” 

She tilted her head at him.

“It’s not as though your own pocket situation is ideal,” David said from the doorway, returning to his lunch. “Frankly, I don’t think you could fit a credit card in the pockets of those jeans, much less a hamster.” He nodded towards Patrick’s pants. “Mid-range denim at its finest.”

The bell sounded again, and this time Patrick stood up. “Eat your sandwich,” he said as he left the back room. “Or I’ll give it to Mariah.”

David sat and wrapped his arm protectively around his take-out box. “Don’t listen to him. We’ve been over this. Food sharing is not something we joke about in this store,” Patrick heard him say to Mariah. “Now eat your vegetables.”

When Patrick finally caught a break between customers and returned to their back room, most of his cucumber was gone, and he didn’t know if Mariah’s or David’s cheeks were fuller.

  


*********

  


“Do you have any plans for dinner?” Patrick asked as they closed up. He was counting the register and David was restocking and straightening to his exacting standards. 

“Ah, I planned on popping a pill, crying a bit, and falling asleep early. So a regular weeknight. Except doing it at Ray’s will be an exciting new twist, I suppose.”

“Sounds like fun.” Patrick smiled and returned to his counting. Which…he might have messed up. Or maybe not. He couldn’t tell. He forgot where he stopped counting. Dammit. Now he had to start again. As he did so, he returned to the conversation, attempting to sound casual. “Maybe we could go to the café? A little celebratory dinner in honour of a successful first week?” Suddenly nervous, Patrick studied the bills in his hand, which he was sorting into piles. David might be tired of him, after all, or want some time alone in his room, both of which would be more than understandable.

“You don’t have to do that,” David said, and now he wasn’t meeting Patrick’s eyes. “I’m sure people will hear the podcast. We probably don’t have to go everywhere together.”

“No, I—I’d like to,” Patrick said. 

David hesitated for far too long, if you asked Patrick, but eventually he nodded. “Well, then, sure. Though I should probably go back to the motel first and pull together some fresh clothing for tomorrow.”

“Should we say eight o'clock?” Patrick asked. This would give him time to run to Brebner’s for a night light if he could find one, snacks, and then additional backup snacks, which he was only beginning to understand the true importance of.

“Okay,” David said, looking down and seeming a little flushed.

“Okay,” Patrick echoed happily, and probably blushing himself. He went back to counting, and then realized he’d forgotten where he was again and had to start a third time.

“That’s a lot of counting,” David said, clearly smiling despite his pursed lips, his eyes twinkling.

“Yeah, I’m gonna—I, oh, crap. Now I gotta start again. Mariah keeps distracting me.”

“Oh, _Mariah_ keeps distracting you,” David said, and Patrick realized then she wasn’t even in the same room.

Patrick blushed harder and restarted his counting a fourth time.

  


*********

  


They had barely toasted their success with a pair of some seriously appalling mozzarella sticks when Patrick heard a little squeal and then a “David!” from behind him, followed by the click of heels on sticky linoleum. Moments later David’s sister was standing at their booth, giving a little shoulder shimmy that he’d only ever seen David do before, and it made him wonder which of them was responsible for introducing it to their distinctive repertoire.

“David, mom is like, super mad at you right now.”

“What? Ugh!” David said. “Why?”

“Um, because she thinks you got married without her getting to perform at the ceremony, duh. And I was all, like, ‘No, mom, obviously no one is going to marry David,’ but she says she heard it from Jocelyn at Jazzagals, who heard it from Roland who accidentally listened to Ray’s podcast after the _Deere John_ tractor one ended when he was driving back from Elmdale. And then dad got all teary and started pacing because he didn’t get to walk you down the aisle, which, like, what are you, one of those gross old goats by the highway? Like, obviously they have way better posture and are less needy, but that doesn’t mean you are property of some recluse over the hill.” 

“Uh, first, I am not a goat. Second, I did get married. And third, and most importantly, I have excellent posture. Now go away and let me eat these disgusting mozzarella sticks with my new husband before our pizza arrives.”

Alexis shoved Patrick further into the booth so she could sit down across from her brother, her purse between them. He glanced down at it, and a little orange and white face looked back at him. A second grey one climbed on top of the first to see out as well, until they both toppled back inside.

Patrick frowned. “I’m not sure hamsters are allowed in restaurants.”

“Oh, same. Like, _hard_ same,” she said and then attempted to wink at him, saying “wink” while doing so, which was helpful, as Patrick wasn’t sure he would have gotten there on his own. “So _anyway_ , David,” she continued, her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. “Why are you lying about getting married?”

Patrick reached across the table and took David’s hand and gave him a little smile. “It’s true. We went to town hall yesterday.” He shrugged at Alexis.

Frowning, Alexis looked between them, then suddenly smashed her fist down on the table, sending the plates and silverware clattering, and Patrick jerked his hand back in confusion. “David, did you or did you not cry into your slap bracelets for a _week_ when New Kids on the Block broke up?” Alexis demanded.

David’s mouth dropped open into a rather fishlike gape before he closed it and hotly denied the accusation. “Absolutely not. You know I had eyes only for Tina in the early 90s.”

“Okay, David, you’re a terrible liar. Though at least you breathed out when you answered this time. That’s progress.” 

David gave her a pleading look and they seemed to have an entirely nonverbal conversation, until something made her soften her expression a little. “Fine, David. I’ll help with mom and dad, but you owe me. And you better fucking text me later to explain.”

“Mmhmm, we’ll see. Patrick and I will likely be extremely busy later,” David said, reaching for him, and even if it was nothing more than a performance, the way David looked at him made his throat catch. Patrick took a long gulp of his water.

When he looked up, Alexis was watching him with a little smile on her face. He frowned. “Um, so how long have you had your purse hamsters? Are they, uh, the originals?”

“No, I gave those two to Ted. He and I just weren’t ready to adopt, you know? We’re amazing friends, but it’s _such_ a big decision. But then I saw these two waiting for the bus to Elmdale last week, so I gave them a ride to the nail salon, and they ended up getting a ride back with me too, and anyway, by then I’d learned that their names are Ted and Twyla, so it seemed like I basically had to keep them.” 

“Sure. That…makes sense,” Patrick said.

“M’kay, well, I need to go, because they’re coming with me to meet human Ted for dinner after he gets done at work and, no offence, but going on a triple date with my brother and his fake husband is like, super awkward and cringey.” She stood up, grabbed her purse, and booped Patrick’s nose. “Welcome to the family,” she said, flouncing away as Twyla appeared with their order of garlic bread.

“Pizza will be right out,” Twyla said before flitting to the next table to take an order.

Cringing, David said, “So I’m sorry you had to see that?” and proceeded to double fist garlic bread slices.

“We’re not doing such a great job of selling this, are we?” Patrick asked in between bites of his own piece of garlic bread, which was marginally better than the mozzarella sticks that had now melted into puddles of rapidly solidifying oil-drenched dairy. “Should we try again somehow?”

“Oh no,” David said. “She won’t believe us for a second. But then, the Scottish government has her on retainer to interrogate people who claim Nessie sightings, so she’s had a lot of practice reading people.”

“I…how often does that happen?” Patrick raised an eyebrow in disbelief. 

“Loch Ness Monster claims?” David asked, chewing. Without waiting for an answer, he continued. “Not really sure. They usually sent a jet, so we didn’t have flight logs ourselves. Probably like twelve or fifteen a year? More when she was back in high school.”

“She did it when she was in high school?” Patrick asked in disbelief as Twyla appeared again and dropped off their pizza in exchange for their mozzarella sticks turned greasy cheese pond.

David thought for a moment. “Maybe it was junior high, actually. It’s changed over the years. Based on like, global recessions, and how many of Alexis’s friends happened to be in Scotland at any given point. Oh, and when new Jurassic Park movies were coming out.”

Shaking his head, Patrick carefully levered a piece of steaming pizza onto his plate. Sometimes David didn’t seem real, and Alexis was even more of an enigma. But then, it might be interesting to follow up with her on the Loch Ness sightings; it seemed like something that would be fascinating to track in a nice spreadsheet in his spare time. He added this latest spreadsheet idea into the notes app on his phone below “Hamster reproduction rate over time?” The possibilities were endless.

  


*********

  


Several days had passed and Patrick was coming back from the café since it had been his turn to pick up their lunches when the store phone rang. His hands were full, but the only one shopping was Jocelyn, so David let her browse and grabbed the call.

Setting down their lunches out of sight in the back and starting to pull together the makings of a nice lunch of oats and banana for Mariah, Patrick wasn’t really paying attention until he heard David say, “Oh, Mrs. Brewer! Of course, hello. He’ll be right back. He just stepped into the back of the store for a moment. Do you want me to go get him?” 

_Shit_ , Patrick thought, unable to get the banana off his hands fast enough. He grabbed a tissue and darted out to the front of the store to grab the phone from David. By the time he got to the register, David was ringing up Jocelyn’s tub of moisturizer, a scarf, and bottle of organic lube, the phone tucked between his neck and shoulder. 

Patrick took the phone. “Hey, mom,” he said, turning away from the register and David and Jocelyn’s small talk, “Everything okay? Why didn’t you call my cell?”

“Hi, honey,” she replied. “You texted me the link to your store’s Facebook page, but it keeps redirecting me to something called Instagraph and telling me to call this number for help?”

“That’s because it’s not a Facebook link. The store isn’t on Facebook. It’s a link to our Instagram account though, so you can see pictures.”

“Oh, I see. I think I prefer Facebook, but I do like the photo of you out front of the store holding a guinea pig! When did you get that? If you miss Pippin so much, you can always come visit.”

Sighing, Patrick ignored the last part. “The hamster is Mariah, and we got her maybe a month or two ago, and the other person in the photo is David, my business partner.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Is that who answered the phone?” his mom asked.

“Yep,” Patrick said. He could hear Jocelyn’s credit card receipt printing in the background.

“There you go,” David said. “Can I get your signature on there? Oh, wait, I need to find you a pen so you can sign.

Patrick grabbed one and handed it to David. “Uh, yeah, mom, sorry,” he said into the phone. “So, do you need me to set up an Instagram account for you?” 

“Are you two going to put a wedding announcement on Instagram?” Jocelyn asked David, and Patrick froze. He wondered if there was any chance at all his mom hadn’t overheard that. It was one thing to harmlessly mess around for a few days in Schitt’s Creek, letting his parents believe he was running the store with David, but getting his parents tangled up in the wedding lie was going way too far. It would kill his mom if she thought he got married without her knowing. She’d adored being a part of the planning process when he was engaged to Rachel. He was lucky to know for certain she would have adored being part of it no matter who he loved.

Meanwhile, Jocelyn was still speaking to David. “You really should,” she continued. “I’m sure everyone would be so happy to learn about you and Patrick. Ray could even design an announcement for you. He did a great job with the mouse pads for my students. Have you decided where you’re going for your honeymoon?”

“I don’t think we’re doing that.” David said, then, to further shut down the conversation, he added, “We can’t really since we just opened.”

“Uh, one sec, mom,” he said, when he unfroze enough to speak, scrambling for the mute button as Jocelyn kept talking. 

“I remember when Rollie and I got married and went to Niagara Falls. You need to go on a honeymoon! Just make sure you check the expiration dates on the—”

“Yup, uh huh, yes. Thank you for all of that,” David said loudly, and after taking a glance at Patrick, he said, “Um, Jocelyn, let’s finish this conversation outside. I’ll walk you out.”

The door shut behind them, and everything went silent and still. Patrick took himself off mute.

“Mom?”

“Patrick? Um, what was that?” his mom asked. “Did I hear correctly? Something about getting married?”

“Um,” Patrick said, as the bell on the door sounded again, and Ronnie and Ray came in and started to browse amongst the displays. “No?”

“I could swear I heard...but you’ve only been in Schitt’s Creek a few months. That would be too fast, honey. Much too fast.” She paused, and her tone became softer. “This has nothing to do with who you love, you know that, right? Your dad and I were so proud of you when you told us you might be gay. And we love you no matter what. But this is…really, really fast. And you never said a word to us about any of it.” She stopped. “Are you really engaged?”

 _Oh god._ “Uh,” Patrick said, looking at Ray and Ronnie. “No, I’m not—not engaged,” he said, and they both instantly looked up from the jars of preserves and applesauce they’d been examining. 

His mom took an audible breath. “Honey, I guess I don’t quite understand.”

David came back in, minus Jocelyn, but Ray and Ronnie were still watching Patrick, curious looks on their faces. Patrick really hadn’t dreamed his parents would get mixed up in this from 600 kilometres away. _Shit shit shit._

Pinching his eyes shut, he said, “David and I—we eloped. A couple days ago we went to the courthouse in Elmdale and got married.”

“Patrick, that’s...I guess we didn’t even know you were seeing anyone. I wish I’d known. I would have enjoyed knowing you were happy.” His mom sounded so sad. “All we want is for you to be happy. So, if you’re happy…”

“I’m happy, yes.” He paused. “We’re happy.”

Ronnie’s attention seemed to turn back to the jams and jellies. She picked up a jar of the ground fruits blend.

“Mom?”

“Yes, sorry, sweetheart. I’m happy for you. I really am. I just—I wish you would’ve told us. I wish we could have been there.”

“I’m sorry, we—it was pretty spur of the moment,” he explained vaguely. He was going to feel guilty about this for the rest of his life, probably. “Did, um, did you still want me to teach you how to use Instagram?”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll let you get back to work. I should go share the good news with your father,” she replied, sounding distant.

“Okay, mom. Maybe we can FaceTime over the weekend.”

“Yes, I’d like to meet David. Your new…husband. Sorry, I think I’m still getting used to the idea that you’re married.” She forced a chuckle. “It doesn’t seem like something you’d do, given how much you like planning things and making sure everything is perfect, like how you did with the store opening. But. I really am happy for you. And I’m sure your father will be too. And we love you very much.”

“Thanks, mom. You too. I’ll talk to you this weekend.” He hung up the phone.

He swallowed hard and headed for the door. “I’m gonna take a little walk,” he said softly as he passed David on the way out. David gave him a sympathetic look and then pulled him in for a quick hug, before pressing a light kiss to the side of his head. He smelled so good, and all Patrick could think of was his need to get out of there immediately. “I’ll be back in a half hour,” he said, pulled himself free, and practically ran out the door in desperate need of some air. 

  


*********

  


That night, David and Patrick had gotten back to Ray’s after dinner, and David was unpacking extra clothing into the space Patrick had freed up for him, when Patrick’s cell phone rang. He’d felt a little better after walking around for a while, but he hadn’t yet had time to come up with a way to deal with the situation. And now his phone was buzzing, “Mom and Dad” showed on the display, and Ray was probably standing right outside the door listening so he could interrupt at the worst possible moment. Patrick had done the analysis; it was statistically improbable that Ray’s bad timing was pure coincidence. He sat down on the bed and fell backwards before answering and putting his phone to his ear and greeting his parents.

“Hi honey, we wanted to make sure you know that we love you and are happy for you. We just didn’t know you were dating or engaged this time, so it came as a surprise.”

“I know, I’m sorry about that. It’s been incredibly busy, opening the store,” Patrick replied, and this, at least, was true. As his parents talked, Patrick looked on fondly as David handled his sweaters with the same care and attention that he gave Mariah. His heart was spilling feelings all over the place. 

“Well, that’s actually what we wanted to talk to you about,” his mom said. “When we were on the phone earlier in the store, I overheard that you didn’t have a honeymoon. Do you have something planned?”

“Oh,” Patrick said. “No, we were focused on the launch, so it really didn’t come up.”

“Well then, we’d like your honeymoon to be our wedding gift to you,” his dad said.

“What?” Patrick sat up. “No, dad, we don’t—we can’t accept that. It’s too much.”

“Oh, it’s not that much. We talked to your cousins, and you know Ruby and Luther’s cabin out on the lake up past La Sarre? It’s completely open for the next two weeks if you want to go. I think they got some snow already, so it should be beautiful. And it’s such a cozy cabin. Might make a romantic getaway for a few days? They offered to get it all set up for you, and they offer their congratulations.”

“Oh, mom, we couldn’t. Even if we wanted to, we couldn’t get away from the store. We just opened.”

“But it’s your _honeymoon_. It’s important to invest as much time in that as you do that store of yours. Promise us you’ll consider it.”

“I haven’t been there in at least a decade,” Patrick admitted. “I used to love it so much. It was such a great place.” He sighed. “But we really only opened our store a few days ago.”

“Wouldn’t people understand if you closed for a few days for this?”

“Maybe, but financially—” 

“We’ll help with trip costs. Think about it. And talk to David. It’s yours if you want it.”

Patrick thanked them and said goodnight.

“What was that about?” David asked when he hung up the phone.

“My parents offered us a honeymoon, a romantic cabin on a lake, and we could go anytime in the next two weeks, but obviously that can’t happen.”

“You don’t want to?” David asked, folding what looked like underwear into a small pile and placing it in one of his designated drawers. Feeling bashful, Patrick tried not to watch. Tried not to imagine. 

“Well, no, I mean, it would be amazing, but—”

“You could go,” David said. “I don’t want to keep you from going somewhere if you want to. You’re probably tired of being with me all the time anyway by now.”

“What? No, David, I’m not tired of you. It was simply a special place, and I haven’t been in years. And a couple of days to relax sounds nice. But I couldn’t go without you. It’s a wedding gift. I don’t think one spouse can go on a honeymoon without the other. And besides, I’d want you to come along. Road trips are exponentially better with a friend.”

“Is it a murder cabin?”

“A _murder_ cabin? I don’t even know what that is, but I’m gonna go with no?” Patrick laughed. “It’s really nice actually. They modernized it, but it’s still cozy, big roaring fire in the winter, drinking coffee looking at the frozen lake, a hot tub under the stars. There’s two bedrooms, one set up for kids, one for adults. Or at least, that’s what I remember; it’s been a while. And you can snowshoe or cross-country ski or ice skate.”

“Oh, I won’t be doing any of those things,” David said, moving on to fold his undershirts, which, thank god, because Patrick could barely look him in the eye when he was folding his underwear.

“Unfortunately, neither will I since we can’t exactly go,” Patrick said, putting the idea to rest in his mind and ignoring David’s noncommittal hum in response. “Want to watch a movie before we go to sleep?”

“One, can we watch in bed on your laptop so I don’t have to talk to Ray; Two, can it be _Bridget Jones_ ; and Three, do you have snacks?”

Patrick laughed, affection bubbling up with no other means for escape. “Sure, David. Is it on Interflix?”

“Yes,” David said. “Yes, it is.”

“Well then I guess I’d better get my laptop.”

  


*********

  


“This is insane,” Patrick insisted. “We opened four days ago. We can’t go away for a week.”

Stevie cracked up. “A week? Who are you, Bill Gates? We’re offering a weekend, tops,” she said, gesturing between Alexis and herself where they stood in a face off with David and Patrick in Rose Apothecary the next afternoon.

“You’ll burn the place to the ground!” David said.

Stevie looked offended. “You know I run a business myself, right?”

Patrick had sort of forgotten that honestly, but if she could keep a motel afloat for years, she could probably run their register. 

“Yeah, David, and I can totally like, show people which moisturizer to buy and which colognes will work with their style and body chemistry. Speaking of, we need to talk about the one you’ve been wearing lately.”

“Fuck off, Alexis,” David replied. “Why would you offer to do this anyway?”

“How do they even know about this, David?” Patrick asked. “We were in bed together all night and then came together again this morning.”

Stevie spit choked. “Really,” she said, and Patrick’s face heated on the spot. He shot her a look.

“I may have texted Alexis,” David said, ignoring Stevie.

“He was panicking,” Alexis said. “Something about murder cabins and deer with horns and moths getting their powdery wings on his knits.”

“I wasn’t _panicking_ ,” David said. “I was evaluating potential outcomes.”

“And he only texted me because you were with Jake, and mom was in the closet,” Alexis told Stevie.

Patrick felt hurt. “When was this? You didn’t tell me you were having a panic attack. I could have helped.”

“You were already asleep,” David said, “and I was fine.”

“David, I was right there,” he offered softly, ignoring the looks Stevie and Alexis gave each other. “I would have been happy to explain to you that deer have antlers, not horns.” 

“You guys know you aren’t actually married, right?” Stevie said, eyebrows raised. “You don’t have to spend every minute together. Not even actual married people do that.”

“I—” 

“We—” 

They looked at each other helplessly. Patrick felt himself blush. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Stevie said. “Look, we will cover the store Saturday and Sunday, so you can drive up Friday night and home Monday when the store is closed.”

“Yes, and I will help. Hundo-p,” Alexis said. “I mean, not, like, a _lot,_ obviously. But sometimes!”

“I still don’t understand why you’re offering,” David said. “Why would you do that? What exactly is the catch.”

“No catch. Just trying to be a good person, so.”

“Yeah, and this is like a super cute look for me, David.”

David’s eyes narrowed.

“You know, David, we did see those gorgeous hand-thrown ceramic pet dishes at that market, and they were made by the potter over in that area,” Patrick reminded him. “She made all different sizes, and remember how nice they were? If we did go, maybe we could meet with her and see if she might be interested in a contract. I bet we’d sell lots of those hamster-sized ones. What was her name again? Do you still have her card?”

“Sandy. It’s around somewhere. Those bowls were nice. I’ve never seen anything like them. And we _would_ probably have to go visit at some point anyway to sign her and pick up product. But I’ve still received no compelling evidence that I won’t be murdered by a yeti and left for months in the snow until squirrels and moths decide they’re hungry enough to enjoy some human flesh.”

“I mean, I don’t think squirrels eat people,” Patrick said. “Not unless they’re served in gorgeous Québécois clay dishes, anyway.”

“But do you know for sure, because I am not a naturally gifted runner. Also, I did not know that you spoke French.” David was looking at him strangely.

Patrick moved closer and patted him on the back. “Un petit peu,” he said in a low voice near his ear before taking a step back and cheerfully adding, “Anyway, it’s a nice place, I promise. And it could be good to get away for a couple days.” 

“I am excellent at road trips.” David nodded. “Though I would require full control of the driving playlist.”

Patrick smiled at him. “Okay, David.”

“And I am allergic to skis.”

Patrick chuckled. “Anything else?”

David’s mouth twisted up. “Obviously, I will sleep farthest from the door. I’ve already been chased by too many bears in my life.”

“Ew, David!” Alexis said.

“I’ll protect you; I promise.” Patrick smirked.

“Um, I thought when you texted you said there were two bedrooms, David?” Alexis said, and Stevie cracked up. 

“I, uh, I guess I forgot,” David admitted. 

“Same,” Patrick said quickly. “Forgot. Definitely.”

“M’kay, well, I guess we’re settled then. Stevie will manage the store next Saturday and Sunday while you’re gone, and I will assist in a supervisory capacity,” Alexis said. “And in return you will give us free products and several of these cute little hamster dishes, because Ted and Twyla are like, super tired of using that little bowl you keep jewelry in, David.”

“Is that what we agreed to?” Stevie asked.

“What?” David asked. “I got that in Japan! I didn’t say you could have that. It was made by those monks who only come out after dark.”

“God, Relax, David. I guess you’d better go on this little trip of yours to get them something else to use instead.”

“Oh my god.”

“I’ll call my parents, I guess,” Patrick said, scratching his neck and quite unable to believe this was happening. A not-honeymoon honeymoon and a not-his-vendor visit with his not-husband and the hamster they co-parented.

“Yes, Patrick, yes. Love this journey for you.”

And to be honest, Patrick did too.

  


*********

  


The day they planned to leave for their honeymoon after work was sunny and warm for November, so, knowing he’d be in a car for many hours that day, Patrick decided to walk home at lunch to pick up a few things they’d realized they’d forgotten to pack the night before: a first-aid kit for the car, extra hamster food, and David’s backup under-eye serum. Patrick’s car was full for such a short trip, but he was learning this was part and parcel of road-tripping with David. 

As he was heading back to the store with the rest of the items on their list, Patrick grabbed the mail from the mailbox and flipped through it quickly. He could bring one of his magazines to look at since he’d likely have some time to read.

At the bottom of the pile was a large envelope. He swallowed hard and turned it over. The Service Ontario logo was printed at the top. 

It was addressed to David Rose, c/o Patrick Brewer.

Holding his breath, he tore it open and pulled out the contents.

It was the corrected business licence, and it listed David Rose as the sole owner of Rose Apothecary. As it should be. As it should have been on their opening day. As it always was, in reality.

Meanwhile, he and David and Mariah were supposed to be leaving on their pretend honeymoon and important vendor visit in a few hours, and suddenly they weren’t married any longer, and he had no official stake in Rose Apothecary. Everything had been planned for the trip, they were ready to leave, and $1.94 CAD worth of postage turned all that upside down. 

He walked back to the Rose Apothecary with the envelope clutched in his hands, the rest of their supplies in an old backpack that he dropped off at his car when he got to the shop. It occurred to him that if he didn’t tell David, they could still go on their trip as the Rose-Brewers and have their fake romantic weekend. He could tuck the licence away and no one would know; he could pretend the licence arrived while they’d been away and deal with all of it later.

He’d known none of it was real, of course he had. But it had felt real enough to Patrick, and he wanted it back, all of it.

David seemed to notice something was amiss as soon as Patrick got back, but he was with customers, and it wasn’t David’s responsibility to cheer him up, especially since Patrick was the one who caused the initial mess to begin with, so he put on a smile and dove in and barely left the register all afternoon. The near-constant stream of shoppers coming in before the weekend was going to help their bottom line, but Patrick felt like he was in a daze the entire time. Shortly before closing, a lull finally settled over the store, allowing them to catch up for the first time in hours, and David immediately came over and asked if everything was okay. 

Patrick swallowed hard as he gave up on his pretend romantic weekend. Keeping the truth from David wasn’t fair, even if it was easiest on Patrick himself. David needed to be able to trust him. He handed over the new licence.

“Oh,” David breathed when he looked it over. “So I guess this means…”

“Yeah,” Patrick said. He cleared his throat. “Well, I guess we should cancel the trip since we no longer have to pretend to be married. You’re free of me.” He forced a smile. 

David blinked and tilted his head uncertainly. “Are you sure we should cancel? I mean, your parents did put the trip together for you, and I know you said your cousins got it all set up for us, and you clearly love that place. It seems rude to back out this late.” 

“That’s true, though they won’t thank me when they find out I was lying,” Patrick said. “I don’t know. Maybe there’s no harm in it. I guess I could still go.”

“I guess I thought maybe—well, you probably want some space after all this. Obviously, I can be a lot.” David frowned. “Um, except I was supposed to meet with the ceramicist vendor Sandy on the way back. Would you mind doing that while you’re there?” He paused. “I guess it’s not your responsibility anymore though, since this means we don’t need to pretend to be business partners. But I feel like it would be bad to cancel last minute, and I don’t have a car to go separately since Alexis has it Monday to take like a hundred hamsters to a vet in Elmdale who will distribute them to new homes.”

“David, of course I can still do that. I mean, I’m just the Apothecary numbers guy. Or, well, I _was_ the numbers guy. So I probably won’t know what I’m looking at in terms of products, but I can do my best. I’m sure Sandy will understand.”

“You’re better at contracts anyway,” David said. “Or...maybe we could consider one other option. We could put this new licence away for safekeeping for a few days and go anyway. We can break up or get divorced or whatever we need to do when we get back.”

Patrick blinked. “You’d want to go? Even with the bears and possible cabin moths and snow?”

“I am deeply concerned by the fact that you didn’t qualify bears as only ‘possible,’ but I wouldn’t be going to spend time with _them_ ,” David said, his smile crooked. “And obviously we’re doing it because it would be terribly rude to your family to back out. And inexcusably awful in terms of vendor relationship-building if we canceled last second. Plus, Alexis and Stevie already have everything they need to step in, though I do still have a slight fear that they’ll manage to destroy everything in 48 hours, but I am willing to take that risk. And besides, Mariah looks like she could use a vacation and some hot chocolate by a fire.”

“I don’t think hamsters can have hot chocolate, David.”

“M’kay, I’m gonna need you to work with me here, Patrick.”

“Right. Yup. Mariah absolutely looks like she needs rest and coziness and warm hamster-safe beverages in her life.”

“She’s been working hard. Not everyone can move up from intern to VP, Client Relations in less than eight weeks.”

“Especially not without opposable thumbs,” Patrick added. “So, you’ll probably have to hold her mug for her.”

David’s mouth quirked up. “Mmm. Let’s see how it goes.”


	5. Coveted Professions

“Are we there yet?”

“Yes,” Patrick replied, taking a turn onto a gravel road that wove up a hill in the dark. 

“Okay, but do you really mean it this time, or is this like the last few times where you said yes even though the answer was clearly no because you think you’re funny.”

“Yes.” Patrick smiled to himself and slowed down to a crawl and then took a final right onto a driveway that led to the cabin, placed well back from the road. “My mom said they had early snow up here, but there’s less than I expected. I checked the weather before we left though, and it seemed like we might get a few centimetres tomorrow.”

“Um, I know you said this wasn’t a murder cabin, but do you know for sure, because you could scream and scream out here, and no one would hear you for miles.” David peered out the window, craning his neck as if looking for lights indicating civilization. “Also, you did not tell me that there would be no cell service here.”

Patrick raised his eyebrow. “There’s barely cell service in Schitt’s Creek. Here we’re basically 40 kilometres from the nearest...anything.”

“Oh god,” David said. “Oh god.”

“It’ll be fine. I’m pretty sure there’s satellite internet. It’s slow as hell, but it should work. And look, I was serious this time; here we are.”

“Oh god, I’m afraid to...Oh! Well, this is nice.” David peered through the front windshield at the cabin as they pulled up to it and parked the car, the cabin illuminated by a combination of car headlights and the front porch lights that had been left on for them.

“I wouldn't have made you drive all this way if I didn't think it was gonna be worth it. I know you a little better than that.” Patrick turned off the car and looked at David before looking back at the cabin. “Wow. It looks just like I remember.” The log cabin was simple and small, set into the trees, and the windows and deck in the back of the house overlooked the small lake, already frozen for the season. It was cold, and patches of snow were covering the ground, but it had always been cozy in the cabin, and Patrick couldn’t wait to get them inside. He certainly hoped his memory of the inside was correct as well. “Okay, I’m going to get my bag and Mariah so we can get her inside right away. That little sweater you put on her is cute, but it’s not enough now that the sun has gone down. Can you grab your bags, or at least some of them? And I’ll be back to help with the rest.”

“I will definitely attempt to carry my bags inside,” David smiled.

“I believe in you,” Patrick said, braced himself, and opened the door to the cold.

Patrick grabbed a backpack, his overnight bag, and Mariah’s travel cage, and went to the front door, quickly punching in the code his parents had given him. It opened right up, and Patrick stepped inside.

“Wow,” he said as he stopped inside the door, David nearly barrelling him over to get in and out of the cold. He set some things down and turned on another light. “This is even better than I remember.” It was a homey mix of rustic warmth with modern luxuries tucked away unobtrusively. Blankets and pillows were scattered across the furniture, all the colours of the lake with its varying moods and energies, and the lighting was warm and inviting. He put Mariah down on a small table and went through to the back of the house. Wanting to get the wood stove going right away so David and Mariah were warm enough, he headed to the boot room, knowing extra wood would likely be stashed there, at least enough to get through the night. He grabbed a few logs and returned to the main room with them just as David returned from the car with the second half of his bags, which he dropped unceremoniously in the entryway.

Patrick looked up from where he was kneeling by the stove, having found the lighter and some newspaper. “I’ll get this going so we can warm up. Do you mind making one more trip to get the food from the trunk and then locking up the car?” David groaned, but pulled his hat down over his ears and turned around to go outside a final time. 

By the time he was back, Patrick had the beginnings of a fire crackling away and was starting to take off his own coat and gloves. David made a soft whine, immediately passed off the food to Patrick and stood by the wood stove to warm his hands. 

“It’ll take a few minutes, but trust me, we’ll be very warm tonight. ” 

“That is the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me. Literally.”

Patrick snorted. “I’m gonna go put this stuff away.” He lifted the food supplies and went into the kitchen, flipping on the lights along the way. “Oh wow.” He knew that his family was going to leave some supplies as part of their gift to Patrick and David, but they’d gone all out. A note offering congratulations was left on the counter with some wine glasses and a bottle of what seemed to be nice champagne, and a large basket sat beside it, filled with fruit, wine, and chocolate, nuts, and who knew what else. Some candles were left for them, as well as some fresh bread and cookies, and when Patrick opened the refrigerator, he spotted cheeses and meats cut for sandwiches, the makings for homemade pizza, a ready-to-heat homemade lasagna, good coffee and what looked like cinnamon rolls ready for the oven—oh my god, David was going to die, there was so much. He opened the pantry door and found hot chocolate, pancake ingredients, the various components necessary for s’mores.

He took a step back and looked around and noticed a box on the other counter. He went to investigate and found a beautiful cake that read “Congratulations, Patrick & David” across the top in fancy swirls of icing.

It was wonderful, and romantic, and also…kind of a lot. The cake especially. Guilt settled unpleasantly in his stomach. It was all completely overwhelming. He hoped David didn’t freak out.

Quickly, he put away the food items they’d brought along, mixing everything in with the various treats from his family. As he was finishing, David wandered into the kitchen. He’d taken his coat off, which was a good sign that he was finally getting warm. 

“Whoa,” he said looking around. 

“I know,” Patrick agreed. “I don’t think we’ll go hungry.”

“I recognize that we had dinner on the way, but I would like one of everything, please.”

“Have anything you want, honestly. But how would you feel about getting settled and opening a bottle of red?” he asked, feeling a brief, unexpected bout of nerves go through him as he suggested the wine. 

“That sounds amazing.” 

“All right, let’s grab your bags, and I’ll show you where the bedrooms are.” 

Patrick pointed out the bathroom along the way, and after poking his head in briefly, David nodded in approval. “This is acceptable.”

Smiling to himself, he led them to the larger bedroom. A large bed with thick blankets and about twelve pillows dominated the room, with a gorgeous stone fireplace directly across from it. Fluffy rugs, a few lamps and end tables were scattered about, and two oversized chairs looked out of a wide floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the lake. Everything had been designed with natural components, so that it would look at home in the Canadian wilderness. It was all terribly effective: simple, classy, and almost unbearably romantic. The rest of the house was great, but seeing this room as an adult, he now realized how special the space was.

“Um, this is…really nice,” David said. “It’s been a hot sec since I’ve been anywhere like this.”

“Yeah,” Patrick said, feeling himself flush. “The bathroom is through that door. It’s great too,” he added, remembering the giant soaking tub that had always felt wonderful after a day of snowshoeing or shinny. “Uh, so this will be your room. Do you want me to light a fire in the fireplace for you?”

“My room?”

“Well, yeah, you’re the guest. I can take the other one down the hall. Besides, this will be warmest for you because of the working fireplace.”

“Oh, I thought. I mean, it’s your house, so you should probably have this room.” David looked around, and Patrick caught their reflections in the large glass window that looked out into darkness. They were standing so close to each other, angled toward each other, and David seemed to be watching him now that Patrick had looked away himself. But when David followed Patrick’s eyes and caught their reflection as well, he gave a little shiver. 

“Are you cold? I can—I’ll shut the curtains for you. It’ll stay warmer. And we can get a fire going.”

“I’m not cold,” David said softly. “I just, um, I’m not sure I want to be alone in here. Tonight.”

Patrick swallowed. “Uh, do you want to see the other bedroom, or…?”

“Does the other room have non-bear-sized windows?”

“Oh,” Patrick said. “Well yeah, it’s much more of a standard bedroom. But the beds are twin bunk beds, so it’s not nearly as nice unless you’re fourteen.”

“You were going to take that room.”

“I...yes,” Patrick said. “But you’re the guest, so you should have the nice—”

“Patrick,” David’s eyes searched his. “We’ve been sleeping in the same bed for days.”

“We didn’t really have a choice.”

“And now we do.”

“Now we do,” Patrick echoed. “So don’t you want some space to yourself since you never get to have any?”

“Look, we can do what you want, but...wouldn’t this room be nicer shared? I mean, look at it.” David’s eyes danced around the room. “Also, you’re warm,” he admitted, giving Patrick a side glance. “And you would know what to do if a bear tried to break in. And you only snore a little.”

“I was under the strong impression you didn’t like sharing a bed. I mean, you complained,” Patrick pointed out. “Like, a lot.”

“I complained about Ray. And the smell of all those hamsters in the bathroom. I complained about the lack of closet space. And don’t even get me started on that anatomically incorrect glass chicken on your shelf. But I never complained about sleeping in your nice big bed with you, not even when you kicked me so hard it left a bruise.”

“I was running home,” Patrick said absently. “They were going to tag me out. Remember, like in _A League of Their Own_?” He went to the far side of the room and pulled the heavy floor-length curtains shut. “If you don’t remember, we can watch it again.” 

When he turned back, one side of David’s mouth was curled up. “Stay,” he said.

Patrick wanted to stay. Even more now that David clearly wanted him to. He wanted it so badly he could taste it. Being wanted by David Rose in any context was a heady thing. But Patrick hesitated. Pretending or daydreaming was one thing, but he wasn’t sure it was possible to have everything he wanted with David without giving up what they already had. Not in real life.

They’d already done it, though, slept in the same bed, and it was fine. Everything was fine. His heart was…well, hearts were complicated at the best of times. But Patrick knew he could do it again because they already had. 

He walked back over to David and knocked into him lightly on the way by. “Fine,” he said. “Now come on, let’s have some wine.”

David followed him back toward the kitchen. On the way, Patrick stopped by the other bedroom, curious to see if it was as he remembered. But when he opened the door and turned on the light, it was completely torn apart. Paint cans were scattered throughout, with plastic covering the hardwood floor, and mattresses pushed up against a far wall. “Huh,” Patrick said. “I guess they’re remodelling or something.”

Following him out and shutting the door behind them, David said sadly, “They really should have gone with more of a pewter than pale oak, but it’s too late now.” 

“Maybe it’ll look different in the light,” Patrick pointed out.

David snorted. “And that’s why you’re the math guy and I make the creative decisions for the store,” David said, then stopped cold. “Fuck.” 

Patrick was no longer his partner, no longer the apothecary’s math guy. 

Clearing his throat, which now felt very tight, Patrick said, “How about we go get some of that wine.”

“Yes please. And let’s make s’mores.” 

“A classic combo. How do you plan on making these s’mores? Seems pretty cold to use the fire pit.”

“In the fireplace, obviously.”

“Is that safe?” Patrick asked. “I’m pretty sure that might not be on the list of approved fireplace activ—”

“I did not drive all this way to a cabin in the middle of nowhere not to eat s’mores after.”

“Well then, I guess we’re making s’mores.”

“Maybe we should grab the cookies too though. And some cheese.”

“I mean, if we’re going to have cheese, we should probably also bring crackers and prosciutto,” Patrick said.

“Oh, and the strawberries,” David said. “Oh, and olives!” He gave a happy wiggle.

Patrick grinned. “Okay, okay. Can you get Mariah settled? I’ll put together a cheese board and meet you in the bedroom.”

  


*********

  


An hour later, and Patrick was sitting on the thick rug in front of the fire in his pyjamas—or, more specifically, sweatpants and a Jays t-shirt that he’d had for at least a decade. Mariah was asleep on his lap, and he’d had a glass of wine and a few too many snacks, and it was all he could do not to simply stare at David, who sat across from him in the dimly lit room. 

David had half a glass of wine in one hand and was gesturing emphatically about muffins, or maybe the little paper wrappers they came in. It didn’t matter. His cheeks were flushed from wine and warmth, he was wearing a pair of elegant white pyjamas with a collar that dipped low enough for Patrick to be able to catch an occasional glimpse of his chest, and he had a grey blanket wrapped around him. His eyes were shining, and he was bathed in firelight.

He was so beautiful it hurt.

Patrick wanted to take the glass, set it aside, and lean in and kiss those wine-dark lips. He wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything. He ached to run his fingers over David’s skin, over his cheekbones. He ached to taste him, ached to touch him. 

Ached to feel David breathe hot against skin as the fire crackled and danced and burned along with them.

He wanted everything with David. To go to work with him. To take ill-advised road trips with him. To sleep next to him. To sleep with him. To have dinners at the café and weird conversations with his family. To grow a business and raise a hamster and listen to his ridiculous opinions on everything under the sun—and listen even more closely when it was important. To laugh so hard they couldn’t breathe, and then laugh harder. To give him the most awful ceramic farm animals he could find. To zing with him.

And maybe he could, maybe David would let him, would even kiss him back. It was so much, so many possibilities. And just as many potential consequences. 

At some point, David had stopped talking and was watching him intently, like Patrick was a puzzle to solve. Like Patrick was complex and interesting like David, instead of straight-forward and boring. “It’s late,” David said softly.

“Yeah,” Patrick agreed.

David held out his hand, and it took Patrick a moment to realize he was reaching for Mariah. He then stood and wordlessly put Mariah in her travel cage for the night. Next, he reached for Patrick’s hand, helping him up. They quietly cleaned up the rest of the food and wine, leaving most of the items in the kitchen to be dealt with the next day.

“I’ll only be a minute,” Patrick said softly, because if he followed David back into that room, he thought he knew what was going to happen. “I need to close up and deal with the woodstove.”

“I’m gonna get ready for bed,” David said, and Patrick nodded and went to check the stove and begin turning out lights, finally using the second bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, because David had not yet emerged from the en suite. When he finally did and they worked through some initial indecision related to whether bears were more likely to attack by breaking in a window or simply guessing the keycode to enter through the front door, David finally selected his side of the bed, and Patrick made his way to the other side. He climbed in, easily ceding most of the blankets to David’s cocoon because the room was so warm. The fire had died down almost to embers, but it still gave off enough light that Patrick could barely make out David’s features. He would’ve thought he’d have memorized David’s face by now, but somehow there was always more to learn. He could smell the peppermint of his toothpaste.

“I want to kiss you,” David breathed quietly into the night, and Patrick thought he probably knew this.

“I want to kiss you,” Patrick said back, soft as anything, because he did and had and sometimes felt like he always would.

“I know,” David said, and he leaned over and brushed his lips against Patrick’s forehead, the briefest press, before settling back against his side of the mattress.

“David,” Patrick said, more air and heart than actual sound. It felt like everything important to him in the world was at stake. He found David’s hand in the darkness, entwining their fingers. “What are we doing?”

David shook his head once. “I don’t know.”

Patrick nodded once, finally looking away when the fire had died down too much to see what was right in front of him. He released David’s hand and turned over. It was a long time until he fell asleep.

  


*********

  


When Patrick woke up the next morning, he found he and David had remained close through the night and were still facing each other. But watching David sleep felt like it might be too much for his own well-being, not to mention, David probably wouldn’t like it much if he did. So Patrick turned over, and that’s when he realized something was different in the air, something had changed, something his body recognized but couldn’t immediately identify. 

It didn’t take long to figure it out. Patrick heard a soft thump from outside and noticed that the typical sounds of morning in the forest were decidedly muted. It was the sound of snow, a blanket thick enough to bring everything to a halt and dampen any sounds that remained. He knew without looking that if he opened the curtains, he’d find a shimmering crystalline world. He dug out his phone and found an apologetic text from his mom that must have made it through to warn them that the storm might bring more than originally expected. He wondered if it was still snowing, but he was way too comfortable to check, and the snow wasn’t going anywhere either way. He snuggled back under the blankets and dozed for another hour before finally emerging to throw on a hoodie, use the bathroom, add new logs to the wood stove to warm up the cabin once more, and finally start the water for coffee and tea. There was no need to wake David—they were on vacation—but it would be good to have coffee ready for when he did eventually get up. 

He opened curtains as he moved through the house, marvelling at the snow that revealed itself each time he did so. It seemed about twenty or thirty centimetres had fallen, at least from what he could tell.

When his tea was ready and he’d had a few fortifying sips, he went and retrieved Mariah, tucked her safely in his hoodie pocket, and cleaned up her cage and got her fresh food and water. These minor tasks helped keep his thoughts from wandering back to David, to the store, to their conversation the night before.

Around 8am, Patrick decided to take a long, hot shower—which didn’t actually end up being that long because again, he kept thinking about David and wondering what to do—and then bake the cinnamon rolls that had been left for them. When he sat back down again with another mug of tea, he was clean, warm, and in possession of a giant gooey cinnamon roll. But then that was gone, and David was still in bed, so, bored, Patrick decided to go outside and shovel their car out and maybe see if he could find a snowblower in the shed. It was far too soon to have cabin fever, but he felt the need to get out and use his muscles, to burn up some of the leftover energy and tension he’d felt from the night before. In any case, since David had made it extremely clear that he wanted no part in the outdoor activities, preferring to stay in where it was warm to read and watch movies, Patrick figured tackling the snow clearing while David slept was a good use of their time together.

He bundled up from head to toe, scarves and thick gloves and hat pulled down over his ears, imagining he might want to explore the unexpected snowy wonderland beyond the confines of the driveway after he finished. He made sure to write David a note and let him know he’d be back soon, added some more wood to the wood stove, said goodbye to Mariah, and then went outside to take stock of the situation.

The snow ended up being the light and fluffy variety, so the path to the front door was cleared quickly and easily enough, especially this early in the season when it wasn’t already piled up to your neck or worse, and his car soon followed. Now that the manual labour was done, he decided to walk down to the lake behind the cabin, so he tromped off through the snow down to the shoreline, the fresh snow blurring the transition from frozen earth to solid ice. Mostly it was quiet; just Patrick and a few early birds were out that morning, as the rest of the world remained tucked in their beds.

He walked along the lake, a path he knew from when he was younger, but no matter how many steps he took, no matter how many footprints he left behind him, the future wasn’t any clearer. Eventually he found a hidden place amongst some evergreens that had been protected from the worst of the snow. He perched on a log and stared out over the water, taking it in while seeing none of it. 

Instead, he remembered David’s face from the night before, firelight dancing over his skin, his eyes dark. He imagined dragging David out into the snow to make a snowperson, how the stray snowflakes might look on his lashes. He thought about what could have happened, the night before, and he wanted it. He thought about what could be when they got home, and he wanted that too. But what if he had to choose—what if someone didn’t get everything they wanted and he could only choose one or two, when the ways he wanted to be with David seemed to be in the dozens. And what if he chose wrong or wanted too much, got greedy, and everything became unsustainable and he lost it all. He would shatter like ice.

But what if he didn’t try. What if he let himself yearn, day after day after day, and told himself it was enough while he slowly melted away from the inside out.

In the past, he’d have let others decide for him, let himself be guided by either happenstance or the desires of those around him. It was easy. He didn’t have to have the answers or make tough choices, and it wasn’t his fault if things went awry. The appeal was undeniable. Even now it would be easy to let someone else pick up the snow globe and give it a good shake, leaving the tiny Patrick inside to watch the pieces fall where they may. 

He didn’t want to be the snow globe version of himself.

A bird squawked nearby, startling him out of his thoughts, and he realized he was cold, and the sun had progressed farther in the sky than he realized, and he knew he should head back. He followed his own path back around the lake and up the hill toward the cabin. Dusting off any remaining snow and stomping his feet, he punched in the keycode and went inside to take off all his winter gear.

He was immediately enveloped in a David-sized bear hug. “Where were you? Are you okay?” David stepped back briefly to look at his face and then pulled him into another hug and held on tight. “Oh my god, I was so worried.”

“David, I’m okay, I promise.” Patrick hugged him back. “I left a note.”

David finally released him. “You said an hour!” There was snow on his sweater. 

“Yeah, I thought…what time is it?” Patrick asked as he pulled off his hat and gloves and then unwound his scarf and hung everything up in the coat closet.

“It’s after one o’clock!”

“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry, David. I took a walk along the lake and must have lost track of time.” After he struggled out of his boots and coat, he went over to warm his hands by the wood stove. “Did you find the cinnamon rolls? Are you hungry? I can make us some lunch.” David was probably hungry; they normally would have finished lunch by now.

“You think I’m upset because of lunch? I didn’t know where you were! I thought you…fell in the lake or a giant snowbank or something.”

“You know the snow is only ankle deep, right?”

“Patrick!”

“Okay, okay, C’mere. I’m sorry I left you alone with the bears and cold cinnamon rolls.” He hugged David again to stop his hand wringing and pacing.

David’s breath caught and he made a little choked sound into Patrick’s neck, so Patrick didn’t let go. “So how many cinnamon rolls did you have?” Patrick asked, smiling against David’s shoulder after David’s breathing evened out.

“Four,” he said. “And fuck you.”

Patrick laughed. “You must be hungry for lunch then.”

David huffed and let him go. “You’re still cold. Your hands are like ice. You should take a bath or shower to warm up. Just...stay here by the fire. I’m going to draw you a bath.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Please. You always do things for me but putting together an excellent bath is one thing I know how to do for you. So, um, stay here for a minute. And apologize to Mariah. She was worried too.”

Patrick felt the corners of his mouth turn down as he smiled fondly at David. “Okay,” he agreed, and watched David bustle around the cabin for a few minutes. When he came back for Patrick, who was indeed apologizing to a hamster, because this was his life now, David looked satisfied.

“Come with me,” he said, so Patrick followed him down the hall and into the bathroom with the big tub. There was a candle lit on the vanity, and the bathtub was filled with bubbles and steaming water. “I didn’t know your preferred scent profile for relaxation, so I went with one of my favourites. It’s cinnamon, patchouli, rose, and sandalwood. And it’s got lots of Vitamin E, safflower, and avocado oil in it.” He looked at Patrick as though Patrick would know why avocado belonged in a bathtub. He didn’t. But he did know it smelled like heaven—and a little like David. 

David added, “Oh, and the sage candle should compliment the other scents, not compete, but if you don’t like it, there were some others I found in the kitchen. Um, and I put a fresh mug of that tea you like by the sink. Its scent will not compliment the others, but I’m not a miracle worker.” David looked around. “Oh, and I put lots of towels on the—” 

“Thank you, David. This is perfect.”

“Yes, well, the coconut milk should do wonders for your skin, so, um, I’ll just.” David backed out of the bathroom. “I’ll go, um. Read, I guess. My book. You...warm up, I guess.” He shut the door softly.

Patrick bit back a smile and began to get undressed, taking note of all the thoughtful little touches David had set up for him, everything to David’s exacting standards. Between the knowledge David had done this for him and the bath, he was completely warmed up in no time.

  


*********

  


Patrick lasted in the bath for ten minutes. It felt wonderful, but after getting settled in the water, Patrick realized he wasn’t where he wanted to be. Where he needed to be.

Out of respect for all the thought and care that David had put into it—not to mention what were probably expensive products—he forced himself to stay in the bath for at least ten minutes, and truly his cold toes and the muscles he used to shovel earlier thanked him for it. But after that time elapsed, he rinsed off, drained the bath, and dried himself with a giant towel David had left for him. He pulled on his underwear and one of the two robes left on a hook by the shower. Opening the door back into the bedroom, he found it empty, but David had started a fire in the bedroom fireplace, clearly still intent on warming Patrick up from the cold at all costs. Patrick didn’t even know David could build a fire, and it certainly seemed like a lot of newspaper had been involved in the effort, but it was burning more or less steadily now, which was no small feat. 

Making his way down the hall, Patrick found David in the kitchen. He’d made fresh coffee, by the look—and smell—of things and was now looking out over the lake with a mug in his hands. When he heard Patrick approach, he turned around. “Is everything okay? I didn’t expect you back out here so…” David trailed off when he saw Patrick. His mouth formed a silent “Oh.”

“David,” Patrick said, his cheeks heating and his voice scratchy. “I…”

David’s breath hitched. Setting his mug on the counter carefully, David looked at him. “Are you sure?” he asked, voice low, and the sound of it sent ripples of desire through him.

Patrick nodded. He didn’t want to go back. He didn’t want to be a snow globe. The first thing David ever taught him was how to exist beyond the confines of the world Patrick had known, and there was much more to him now than could fit in a tiny glass world. His heart raced in his chest. “I’m sure. Are you sure?” Patrick asked, helplessly drawn closer to him. 

David met him halfway. “I thought a bear fucking ate you. Of course I’m sure.”

Patrick smiled, reaching up and skating his fingers over David’s cheek like he’d wished he could so many times, then curled his fingers into the short hair at the back of his neck. He was so beautiful. David’s lips parted, his hands found Patrick’s waist and pulled him in closer. His eyes were smiling gently. He was so, so beautiful. 

Patrick made a little sound in this throat, and David’s eyes darkened perceptibly, searching his. “Patrick,” he breathed, and then David kissed him. Lightly. So lightly. The softest brush of his lips. Patrick’s knees immediately went weak. 

Pulling back, David looked into his eyes once more, but Patrick couldn’t resist, so he tilted his face up and met David’s mouth with his. 

A small hungry noise came from David this time, and Patrick felt a rush of need wash over him in response, and he pressed closer to David, real and true and honest beneath his hands. David met his lips without hesitation, and Patrick couldn’t stop, couldn’t get enough, his need for David building with every kiss he took. Patrick parted his lips to taste him, and David’s hand found the back of neck as he pressed kiss after kiss to Patrick’s eager mouth. 

When it grew so overwhelming that Patrick felt he might fall apart right there in the kitchen, he finally pulled back, his eyes closed as he caught his breath. He reached for David, resting a hand on his chest. “David,” he said. “David.” He couldn’t stop saying his name. “David, I want—” 

“Mmhm,” David agreed, his hand automatically straightening and smoothing the collar of Patrick’s robe. 

Unable to resist, Patrick reached to place another quick kiss to David’s lips before taking his hand—that hand had featured in Patrick’s imaginings since the first time they met—and walking them backwards to the bedroom. David trailed behind him, his eyes dark and smouldering, and focused entirely on Patrick.

When Patrick’s knees hit the bed, he sat, and pulled David down beside him. David kissed him urgently, and Patrick’s hands ghosted over David’s body, skimming over the soft sweater. 

His lips found David’s jaw, tasting him there, and then he moved to his neck, desperate to taste him there too, and David groaned and grasped at him, and then even that wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He wanted to feel David’s skin against his, to feel David’s hands on his body. 

“Okay,” David said against the side of his head. “Let’s just. Come here,” he said, pulling his sweater over his head and adjusting himself to lay on the bed with his head on a pillow, pulling Patrick down with him, his knee between David’s legs. And then David’s hand found its way to the opening of his robe, and he dragged his hand over Patrick’s bare chest. Reflexively, Patrick ground down in response, and then they both groaned.

“I want you so much,” Patrick said, placing kisses along his jaw, at the side of his mouth, behind his ear. “You were the most gorgeous person I’d ever seen the day you first walked into that office, and you’re even more beautiful to me now.” The zinging had deepened over time, become richer, more complex, and even more special. He found David’s lips again with his and licked into David’s mouth, his hand over David’s heart.

David’s hand was running over his chest again, and now used his fingernails lightly along Patrick’s skin. “I’ve wanted you too—fuck, look at you, your arms have been driving me crazy for months, and your shoulders, Patrick, god. And every day I’d go to work and want to just tear those awful jeans right off you—but I didn’t know...I didn’t know how you felt. I want…can I make you feel good?” 

Patrick’s breath caught in his throat, and a rush of nerves swept through him, but it was nothing compared to the overwhelming want he felt. “How about if we make each other feel good?”

“Yes,” David said. “Mmhm. That sounds. Yup.” Patrick laughed and dropped his head to David’s shoulder, kissing him there. Then he got up and helped David take off his clothes, right there in front of the fire, in awe as David revealed himself centimetre by centimetre, so gorgeous that Patrick could scarcely believe his not-husband was really his. 

When it was Patrick’s turn, David helped him remove the last few pieces of clothing left that separated them, and then he took Patrick back in his arms and kissed him hungrily.

They fell back on the bed together then, skin to skin, exploring yet another way they could be together, and they made each other feel good again and again and again, which, Patrick thought, was what they’d been doing all along.


	6. The Boys Who Cried Paperwork (Epilogue)

Rose Apothecary was closed Mondays, but when Patrick and David got back into town, David insisted on going by to verify it was in fact still standing. 

Patrick parked carefully, avoiding at least two hamsters heading to the café for dinner, if their dinner jackets were any indication. Since they were there anyway and had plenty of merchandise and a signed contract from their newest vendor, Sandy, in the car with them, Patrick made the executive decision to bring everything inside as David inspected every centimetre of his store. He also returned Mariah—freshly promoted to her new role as COO—to her rightful home in the back room and locked away a copy of Sandy’s contract for safe keeping. 

And Mariah wasn’t the only one who got a promotion. Tuesday morning Patrick was joining David as co-owner of Rose Apothecary, officially this time. This meant they had to fill out another Form 52ABX-32QJ-2 to amend the business licence yet again, but fortunately, Patrick had gotten very good at filling them out, so he estimated they’d have their paperwork in roughly eight to ten days. (David seemed less convinced about that time frame.)

After thorough investigation, the only thing David found amiss in the store was the jar of twig pencils was now a jar of small sticks half their original size, and under the jar was a note that said “Tough luck. Fang got hungry.”

Deciding the hamsters were onto something, they then crossed the street to get a quick dinner themselves, except when they walked in, Patrick swore every conversation stopped and everyone looked at them.

Twyla, at least, was acting normal, and told them to find a seat where they liked. They sat down uneasily at a table, and Twyla eventually appeared with their water. “What can I get you?” she asked, cheerful as ever. 

“Um, why is everyone looking at us?”

“Oh, did you not know? You were the focus of a special edition three-episode arc on Ray’s podcast. Um, let’s see,” she said, counting on her fingers. “The first announced that you got married. The second was about how you were not actually married and faked the whole thing to cheat on your business taxes, because Ray stumbled across some paperwork when he was emptying the recycling bin. He cried through almost the whole episode. And the third was about how your tax paperwork was actually accurate, it’s just that Winnipeg was sleeping on top of some numbers, so they didn’t add up. So, I guess that one wasn’t so much about you after all.” Twyla shrugged. “At least you don’t have to pretend to be together anymore. Why were you pretending to be married anyway?” Twyla asked, as Stevie happened to walk in. She spotted them immediately and came over, shoving David further in the booth to sit down.

“It’s a long story.” Patrick sighed. “But actually, we are together now.” He smiled proudly at David.

“We are not announcing it on Ray’s podcast,” David said from behind a menu.

“Announcing what on Ray’s podcast?” Stevie asked, stealing David’s menu.

“That they’re together.”

“Wasn’t that last week’s episode?”

“No, that one was about...you know what? It doesn’t matter. We’re together,” Patrick said. “Right, David?”

“Mmhm. Twyla, I’ll have the cheeseburger. And pie.”

“David, we have an entire wedding cake in the car.”

“So, you are married?” Twyla asked.

“No,” Patrick and David answered in unison.

“I’ll have his pie,” Stevie said. “And his fries.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” David said hotly as a hamster stopped by their table and dropped off some napkins. Its nametag was identical to Twyla’s in style but read “A. Hamster.”

“Huh.” Patrick said.

Stevie shrugged. “Roland started charging rent, so they needed part-time jobs.”

“You know what? I think we’ll take our orders to go,” Patrick said. “I’ll have the tuna melt. Unless…do the hamsters touch any of the actual food?”

“Oh no,” Twyla said with a smile. “That would be completely unsanitary. They wear gloves like everyone else.” 

“Oh my god,” David said, and Patrick agreed.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic took a village, and if you count all of the youtube creators of "cabin with fireplace during a blizzard" and "winter cafe ambiance" ASMR videos that I've played on repeat for the last month as I wrote, that village was probably larger than Schitt's Creek itself. 
> 
> Special thanks to those who more directly touched this story. To MoreHuman, who skillfully, thoughtfully, and graciously betaed way too many words in a truly unforgivably short amount of time, thank you, thank you, thank you. This story wouldn’t have been finished or remotely readable without you, and your support meant so, so much. (Uh, and, um, thanks for not judging me when I asked whether hamsters could wear leashes and calmly suggesting a harness instead.) Here’s to the stories we still have to tell.
> 
> To Sapphirescribe, thank you for your help brainstorming, prereading, Ao3 skin figure-outing, and uploading. And for talking me off ledges every other day. I can’t blame you for the hamsters because technically you suggested guinea pigs, which I promptly forgot and frankly don’t know the difference between them anyway. Which is SHOCKING, I’m sure, given my insistence on scientific accuracy in this story. I maintain that while guinea pigs obvs don’t wear sports coats, beyond that, the differences are intan-gerbil.
> 
> To Delilah McMuffin, thank you for scouring my story for embarrassing Americanisms and for helping me sound as beautifully Canadian as I do in my dreams...Dreams that include wearing coloured pyjamas and pronouncing ‘toque’ correctly.
> 
> To swat117, thank you for the final proofread, for all the moderately creepy hamster gifs you shared on the regular, and your delightful, hilarious support. Love, Mom
> 
> To Lettered, thank you for your help with the title and keeping me company while writing. Tavi, thanks for helping me slot the final pieces of the summary together, but even more so, for agreeing to mod this fest with me. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner. Your range of hidden talents is astounding.
> 
> I truly couldn't have done it without you. You made this story zing. Now, here, have a piece of carrot.


End file.
